Here There Be Monsters
by Aerialas
Summary: For as long as Harry can remember he has been told he's part monster. When he learns of the Dark Lord- a monster amongst wizards that sought to take over the world- he discovers a father he thought long dead. Slash fanfic. Slytherin!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Outline 138**

**Here There Be Monsters**

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is the sole property of JK ROWLING and a select number of Publishing Houses worldwide hold a limited amount of rights to its usage. I do not own nor do I make any profit from the writing and publishing of this story. The characters here-in are still hers. The idea behind the story is my own and as such is mine to do with as I please. Also, this chapter has not been beta-read, so I apologize ahead of time for any grammar and/or spelling mistakes.**

**Synopsis: For as long as Harry can remember he has been told he's part monster. When he learns of the Dark Lord- a monster amongst wizards that sought to take over the world- he discovers a father he thought long dead. **

**In which Dudley takes to telling a little Harry that he's part monster and that's why no one will talk about his parents because his monster father killed his mother and left Harry with them. So it's only natural that when everyone refers to the Dark Lord as a monster and a demon that Harry jumps to the most logical conclusion: Lord Voldemort is his father.**

**Warnings: There are a few warnings in this story as of the moment of this chapter being published. First off, there is going to be a **SLASH PAIRINGS** as that tends to be my personal preference but mainly this will be a **TOMARRY **fanfic. What that means is that Tom Riddle Jr and Harry Potter will have relations of a romantic/sexual nature within this story. For obvious reasons (as stated in the story synopsis) this might make quite a bit of you uncomfortable. There's no harm in simply not reading this fic. Or if you would like to try it out for a few chapters before you decide not to because of that pairing, there isn't going to be any sexual content until chapter thirty-six at present outline (and even then it is hardly important to the plot and I'm making it easily skipped). So take a gander if you like. Also, **characters will be OOC** (I'm hoping only a little, but in some instances it is unavoidable). This fic is what I'm hoping to call a UA (Universe Alteration) plot where I'm hoping to stay within the same world, but a single change kind of perpetuates an ever increasing different story. I'll endeavor to limit this as much as possible, but c'est la vie. Read these now and forever hold your peace as I will not be posting the full warnings section in future chapters.**

**See the end for any Author's Note.**

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**Chapter One**

"What?"

The half-giant stopped in his retelling of the war and found verdant green eyes staring up at him. There was an unfaltering intensity to those eyes he was not prepared for. "Sorry?"

"You said that the man who gave me this scar, the man who caused the war, who killed all those people, he was... was..."

"As Dark as anyone can go," Hagrid confirmed with a grim set to his face. "A monster among good witch and wizards."

There it was again. It was the first time Harry had ever heard of another one. Another monster. He thought he was the only one left. The only monster to hide amongst the humans. Harry Potter was struck with a sudden urge to know this monsters name. He could look up the creature in the library and learn more about how his kind was supposed to act. He reached out and grabbed hold of Hagrid's jacket. "Hagrid. His name. _Please_! I need to know."

The giant of a man looked to have swallowed his tongue. The air around them seemed to solidify in the anxiety the man felt and long seconds passed before he let out a large sigh. Finally: "V...voldemort."

"Voldymore," Harry repeated and then frowned. That didn't sound exactly the same as Hagrid had pronounced it. How did one even spell such a name? "Voldehmore... Vol-de-"

"Shh!" Hagrid hissed. When Harry looked to him again, the man was as white as the bathroom linoleum at Privet Drive beneath his large bushy beard. "I don' know much, mind. But he... You-know-who killed... Harry I'm so sorry! There wasn't no one sweeter than your mum and your dad-"

"He killed my mother?!" Harry blurted out, cutting the giant of a man off.

Hagrid burst out into large shaking sobs, but nodded his head. Harry stared at him as if expecting him to take it back, to say all of this was a silly joke that the Dursleys had concocted to teach him a lesson. But the man continued to sniffle and Harry had to accept that Hagrid was telling the truth. This was... this changed everything. Absolutely everything.

If he had thought that discovering he could use magic was a dream come true, he had been wrong. This monster- this Voldemort- had killed his mother.

Harry sat back and stared into nothing, going through everything he knew about monsters. Monsters tended to hide under beds or in other dark places like the cupboard under the stairs. People were supposed to be scared of monsters, children especially. Voldemort seemed to have succeeded in this simple truth, but Harry was no good as a monster and had never been able to scare the Dursleys.

And that thought brought him back to this revelation that was greater than even his sudden claim to magic. Because when Harry was a babe, he was given his scar by a wizard that committed great and terrible acts. Ollivander had been very clear. The monster that had killed his mother had tried to kill him. Had failed to kill him.

The same monster Dudley had spoken of for as long as Harry could remember, hissing the words through the slat in his cupboard door. "Wittle Monster Hawwy Potter doesn't have a family. Your monster dad killed your mummy, he did. Killed her and left you alone."

Harry had always thought that meant that his dad, too, had died. Why else would he be given to a family like the Durselys? They weren't scared of monsters, not really. Or rather, they weren't scared of Harry. But the very mention of Voldemort's past misdeeds had Hagrid flinching and breaking out into tears. It was remarkable what a true monster could accomplish. Hagrid had calmed down finally and looked at Harry as if he was expected to break out into tears next. Truthfully, Harry wanted to jump for joy. He had a dad. He had family. "A monster..." the newly dubbed Wizard spoke reverently. "Voldemort was a Monster?"

Hagrid nodded. "Those were dark times, Harry and your parents... well, they never really stood a chance."

"My mum-" Harry interrupted, "She was a witch, right?"

"Aye. One of the kindest and brightest I've ever met. And your dad-"

"Voldemort. He was a monster..." Harry whispered.

Hagrid flinched at the name, but nodded again. He looked slightly worried, but Harry paid him no mind. That's why Aunt Petunia had always called him a Freak. Being the son of a Monster and a Witch, there was no wonder Hagrid thought their relationship never stood a chance. Finally, something in his life was starting to make sense. That's probably why all those strange things had happened around him before and all those kids- and even some teachers- seemed to be scared to get anywhere near him. They sensed that he was different. That he was a Monster.

Harry didn't really feel much concern about how badly that term was looked upon by everyone else- Hagrid included. It's what he was. He couldn't change being born a Monster like his Father anymore than he could change being born a Wizard. And while one was applauded in this new world that Hagrid had introduced him to, the other was feared. That didn't bother Harry either as both was frowned upon in the world the Dursleys lived in.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Harry said.

Even if Monsters were scary, that didn't mean he had to be scary to everyone he met. Harry also had no idea how a proper Monster should act, so he decided to behave like a proper wizard until he was told otherwise. And there were many examples to be had in Diagon Alley. "Hagrid..." Harry thought aloud as he stared at the mass of people who milled about Florean Fortescue's. "What happened to Voldemort?"

Hagrid flinched again. Poor fellow was terrified of Harry's dad. "Blimey, Harry. You can't just go around sprouting You-Know-Who's name like that."

Harry blinked up in confusion. "Why?"

"Why?! Merlin's beard, people are still terrified of 'im. 'Why', he asks." Hagrid mumbled the last sentence to himself so low it sort of rumbled out of his big bushy beard. Harry thought it would be rude to point out that he could hear the man anyway- maybe monsters had really good hearing?- so waited for the groundskeeper to continue by himself. "Anyway," he began, "The Dark Lord vanished that night he tried to kill you."

Vanished? How does one simply vanish- oh right. Magic. But then a sickening thought like old milk gurgled low in his stomach.

"Did I kill him?" Harry whispered in horror.

The world around him turned fuzzy around the edges and a tension ran from the base of his neck down the middle of his back. Had Harry killed his own dad? "Some... not me, mind you, but some say he died. Codswallop, if you ask me."

Harry didn't dare hope, but Hagrid knew a lot, after all. Surely, if he thought that Harry's dad was still alive, then it must be true. 'But then again,' Harry thought to himself. 'He might be angry with how everything turned out.' From the sound of things, Voldemort had been nigh unstoppable until Harry had come along. And while this could very possibly mean that Harry was stronger than his dad, he very much doubted it.

Harry nodded once to himself. Everything was starting to make more sense. Now that he knew he had a dad somewhere, he didn't have to stay with the Dursleys anymore. Sure there were plenty of people scared of Voldemort, but that meant they were least likely to argue with the monster when Harry asked him to take him away from the Dursleys.

Of course, he would have to apologize for almost killing him first. How should he go about doing that, he wondered?

"Well tha's enough of all that. Let's get yur robes and get goin'. I have to meet the Headmaster soon. Very important business to be done."

Hagrid came to a stand and patted his pockets a few times. Harry had almost forgotten the grubby little package that they had picked up in Gringotts. He wondered idly as they left the ice cream parlor if it was as important as Hagrid said it was. Surely he shouldn't be just carrying it around and rather should take it directly to the Headmaster if so. Alternatively if Hagrid was part monster too (he was so big, he must be) then perhaps he was strong enough that no one dared to even approach him in hopes of stealing the package. That was rather smart of the Headmaster to entrust the Groundskeeper with such a project.

Harry pulled out his school list just for something to do with his hands. It always ended badly when he was caught staring more than was proper. They still had quite a bit left to go- needing his cauldron, his textbooks, and a standard black robe, whatever that meant. "What is a standard black robe? Is it different from the ones everyone else wears?"

"Madam Malkin will take care of ya, don' worry yerself about that."

When they reached the seamstress' shop (Madame Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion) Hagrid shooed him inside and went off by himself to get something he forgot. The shop was larger on the inside than one would guess. It seemed to be the standard for magical shops and Harry briefly wondered if the same was true for magical homes? He could probably make his cupboard larger if he learned how it worked.

The lady bustling around took one look at him and knew immediately he was going to Hogwarts. Harry wondered if he looked like his parents. Did she know his dad? Perhaps he could ask- "Hogwarts?"

Harry blinked in surprise and turned to notice for the first time there was someone else standing on the podium next to his own. "I-I'm sorry?"

The little boy rolled his eyes and tilted his chin up a bit more. Harry could see up his nose with the new angle and wondered if that was its purpose. It seemed a very silly thing to do. "You are a wizard, yes? Your parents are one of our kind as well?"

Harry wondered if he was supposed to tell people about his father. Sure, it was common knowledge, but there seemed to be a bit of a taboo about talking about him per se. "My mother was a witch. My father is not."

The boy's nose scrunched up. "Well, I suppose that's something at least. My father says that those that do not learn the traditions are a stain on our society and I must say I agree. You do practice the old ways?"

Harry blinked in confusion, but the blond boy continued on without even waiting for his answer. "Well, of course you do. Any family of worth would and you don't look like a pauper. Do you know which house you're going to be sorted into? I'm of course bound for Slytherin. Only the best are allowed so it's the best house. Just imagine if you were sorted into Hufflepuff-" he scoffed at the idea.

Harry wondered if the boy planned on allowing Harry to answer any of his questions or ask a few of his own. Some of the words the blond was throwing around was obviously wizarding staples, but Harry had no idea what most of it meant.

"No one really knows, of course," Draco concluded with a sigh as if the weight on an eleven year old's shoulders was just so great.

What on Earth was a Hufflepuff? Slytherin sounded like something having to do with snakes though and being an Addertongue, surely that house was the one Harry would go to. "Slytherin," Harry spoke with resolve. "Like an Adder?"

The blond boy cut off whatever diatribe he had went on while Harry had been thinking and regarded the other boy with a frown. "Well, the house mascot is a serpent. But I doubt it would be anything as mediocre as a Muggle adder. Perhaps a runespoor?"

Harry didn't know what that was. But he didn't want to sound stupid either. "I've never met a Runespoor before, but I hear that Smooth Snakes are quite ill-tempered. Addy says that it's because they live in cold places."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. My father says-"

'And there he goes again," Harry thought with a sigh.

If nothing else, at least he was learning the dangers of idolizing his dad early on. He'd hate to sound like such a prat.

"What did you say your name was?" the blond boy asked.

Harry inwardly groaned. He hadn't said his name. In fact, he was going to make it a point to not say his name as much as possible. After that escapade in the Leaky Cauldron he knew for a fact that he did not want his name being thrown around listlessly. If one more person congratulated him on almost killing his dad he think he would be sick. "That's you done," the seamstress called to Harry.

He immediately jumped down from the stand and hurried over to the front so he could pay for his robes. Just as he was gathering the parcel he heard a knock at the window. Hagrid was there with a snowy white owl. "Happy Birthday!" he called.

Harry grinned and forgot everything about the rude boy being measured for his robes. He grabbed his parcels and hurried out of the store. "Thought I'd better get ya a right proper birthday present."

Hagrid's beard was so large and bushy that it sounded like he said 'birfday present'. Harry grinned up at the man. This was the nicest thing anyone had done for him. Although he much preferred the birthday cake yesterday, but maybe monsters didn't just eat sweets. That seemed right enough. "It's a lovely bird, Hagrid. But I wouldn't know the first thing about how to handle her."

Harry wondered distantly if he was supposed to eat the bird- that's was the sort of things monsters in storybooks did. Eat people and other animals whole. "Owls are smart creatures, Harry. Just give her a little water and nice place to lay down in when she's done flying about and she'll take care of the rest. I've named her Hedwig."

Relieved that he wasn't supposed to eat the beautiful white owl after all Harry reached forward to pet her through the cage bars. She nipped at his fingers, but didn't bite nearly hard enough to draw blood. "Looks like she likes ya!" Hagrid rumbled his large laugh.

"She bit me."

Hedwig hooted. It wasn't exactly scolding, but it did rather sound like she thought that he was an idiot for not noticing that that was a sign of affection. "Frightfully smart birds, Harry."

Harry wondered if the action translated to other people as well? Was he supposed to nip people to show his affection? Monsters had fangs and claws- neither of which Harry presently had, but there was room for growth. He was only eleven after all and some of the people he had seen today looked positively ancient. Ollivander looked like he was older than the queen. (Harry distantly wondered if the queen knew about witches and wizards. Probably as Aunt Petunia said Queen Elizabeth knew everything.)

"It's best we be off to Flourish and Blotts now."

By the time they had left Flourish and Blotts- and the apothecary, and three other stores necessary to get the rest of his school supplies- it had been a very long day and Harry had taken to sitting on his trunk whenever they stopped for a minute or two. He had everything the letter said he would need- and Hagrid had reminded him that he should follow the letter of the law, so to speak and not spend too much on extra purchases. That hadn't kept him from sneaking purchases that got him a few curious glances and raised eyebrows from some of the staff, among which were several historical texts claiming to have exclusive knowledge and recounts of the War with You-Know-Who. (Harry secretly thought it was both stupid and impressive that grown witches and wizards with magic were so terrified of his dad that they refused to even write his name, even a decade after his supposed destruction.)

Hagrid gave him one more warning before he said goodbye. "Now don't go practicing spells now that you have yer wand. Underage magic is still illegal and if you're caught, you'll be expelled."

All Harry took from this was that he had to make sure he wasn't caught practicing magic. He had added a book concerning underage magic and the laws and regulations that governed those under the age of seventeen when they had gone to the book store. Initially he had hoped it would cover how his dad could go about getting him from the Dursley's but it would probably prove to be helpful in this instance as well.

Now how was he supposed to fit his trunk and Hedwig's cage in his cupboard?

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**A/N: I've tried to keep this first chapter rather short to just introduce the world. All following chapters are considerably longer and quite a few of them have been cut in half because they just keep... going... but as a rule of thumb, the chapters themselves shouldn't be any less than three thousand words, but I have written a couple eight and nine thousand ones so there will be some longer updates. (Chapter six, for instance, rounded out at over eight thousand words before I was finally content with it).**

**There also have been quite a few cuts on scenes and what not and it is my hope that everything that's written has a purpose of some sort whether to introduce a future important plot point or for character development so that you're not suddenly hit in the face with something that makes no sense for the character as they've been written up to that point. I have most of the story mapped out although the ending is a little muddy. It's going to run at least fifty chapters though, so it will be a nice good length of a story. At the moment of this posting the first ten chapters are written and ready so that should give me time to continue fleshing out the rest. I will be posting bi-weekly for the time being to give me time to finish writing and add things as needed, but once I've finished the story I will increase it to weekly updates.**

**Edited: February 2020**

**Bonne lecture**


	2. Chapter 2

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

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**Chapter Two**

Those next few weeks were probably the worst of Harry's rather short life. For once, he had someone else out in the world, somewhere else to be. It was a foreign idea for a little boy who had grown up not belonging anywhere at all. The knowledge often had him feeling homesick for a place and a person he had never met. Or just didn't remember meeting. It was all rather strange and the Dursley's didn't seem to be able to make up their minds if they were now scared of Harry or not. Sometimes he was made to do chores while other times he was locked in the cupboard.

He went hungry quite a bit, but that wasn't entirely unusual. Sometimes he just wasn't fed.

But that particular August found Harry feeling the cramps and growling of his stomach more acutely than before. He was viscerally aware of how unwelcomed he was amongst the dark shadows of Number 4 Privet Drive.

The only thing that made it even a little bearable was knowing that soon he would be away to the magical school where he could look for his dad. He would never have to return to Privet Drive again. He would never have to return to the Dursleys. It was something that Harry looked forward to more than he was eager to attend Hogwarts. Magic was cool and all, but having a family was all Harry had ever wanted. When he was younger and especially naive he had dreamt of a long lost relative showing up on the doorstep and taking Harry away from the Dursleys. Of course those dreams had long since been disregarded as fantasy, but perhaps he hadn't been entirely wrong. From the sound of things, the Dark Lord had been a right proper monster before Harry had come along and ruined everything. (As Harry so often did: ask Aunt Petunia.) Obviously the man had other things to be doing to revive the empire that Harry had effectively destroyed with his birth. So if anyone should go out and find the other it should be him.

These were Harry's thoughts the morning of September 1st. He was dropped off at King's Cross about thirty minutes early with both his trunk and owl on the trolley that Uncle Vernon pushed into the station. Harry should have known something was up immediately. Uncle Vernon was never nice to Harry and he had been in a good mood all morning. When the rotund man left him standing at the brick wall between platforms nine and ten with no sign of the three-quarters part he was supposed to board on, Harry's stomach sank.

Maybe it was a trick? Harry wasn't really a wizard, wasn't really going to a magical school, wasn't really the son of a great and terrible monster. Just when Harry's face was sure to be turning red in embarrassment just thinking about how he was going to return to Privet Drive, he caught the tail end of a passing conversation. "-don't understand how Muggles can abide by the contraptions. Much easier to floo or fly. If there weren't so many of us, it would be-"

Harry's head shot up and without a second thought he followed the family of redheads continuing down the platform. He was rather surprised when they ran at the brick wall and even more so when they simply disappeared through it. A false wall! It wasn't a brick wall at all, but a portal of some sort that led to the train to Hogwarts. Harry didn't approach the family. After all, he was a monster and the memory of the uproar that had occurred at the Leaky Cauldron was enough of a warning. Harry was a miracle. A half-monster babe that had almost destroyed his monster father! And then there was that boy at the robes shop that had suggested Harry shouldn't be allowed to go to magical school since he hadn't grown up in the magical world. No it was probably best to stick to himself until he knew what to fully expect. He didn't want to make a mistake so soon after he had finally decided to find and help his missing father. And he never knew who was a Light wizard.

It was in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord of Great Britain by Tabatha Meliflua that Harry had first come across this distinction between witches and wizards. Magic was passed down through the bloodline. Even Muggleborns could eventually trace their lineage to a thrice removed squib great-great grandfather or what not, the book had said. And it was characteristic that each lineage of magical family were predisposed to either be a Light Wizard or a Dark one. Harry's father being the great man that he was was given the title of the Dark Lord not only because he was terrifying but because of his mastery over Dark magic. Which meant that Harry, too, was a Dark wizard. And there was to be no mixing of any kind between him and a Light wizard. One couldn't be the son of a Dark Lord and participate in such nonsense. And so far the Prewetts, the Weasleys, and the Bones families had all been characterized with red hair and were staunch supporters of the Light. Best to avoid red-heads as a rule for the time being.

But of course just such a person would find his way into the last compartment on the train. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from frowning. "I see," he said and buried his head further into the thome he had pulled out.

The Traditions, Holidays, and Rituals of Olde Magick wasn't the most entertaining purchase Harry had made by owl order, but it was intimidating enough to get the boy to stemmy any future attempts at conversation entirely. The same cannot be said for the girl who came through looking for a toad. "Oh! I've heard of Augustus Selwyn. He's rather notable for his treatise on the ancient origins of modern spells. I found the entire thome fascinating."

And on and on she went. Harry was actually a tad bit impressed that she knew so much. Perhaps she was a half-blood like him to know so much. There was no house colors on her robes yet so she wasn't a second year.

"Excuse me," Harry interrupted her when she finally took a breath. "But weren't you looking for a toad?"

In the same whirlwind that the bushy-haired girl came in, she left with another rush of words the door closing with a quiet snick. Harry smiled to himself as he began going over Walpurgis Night. "Well wasn't she just dreadful. You were right to send her packing. She's almost as bad as Percy. I hope she's in Ravenclaw."

And just like that his good mood was effectively soured. "I thought she was rather charming. I haven't met many who practice the proper traditions and even less who enjoy learning of them."

Aunt Petunia would have sniffed disdainfully at the lack of manners. Harry was rather intrigued by the large discrepancy between how his book said proper witches and wizards were supposed to act and the reality.

Was it the mistake of the witches and wizards he had met up until this point or was the information given to him in his book dated? It had been in what had been touted as the 'best-sellers' section, so surely it wasn't entirely wrong. Maybe only certain people behaved appropriately while others didn't have the means to know any better.

Harry would have only gotten the standard black robe that his school letter had required if it hadn't occurred to him that he would be spending a great amount of time in the wizarding world from now on and very few wore black robes. (He had sent Hedwig back to Madam Malkin's with an order form and had received a parcel a week later with several more robes including a dressier set in various colors and some under clothes to wear as well. He wasn't going to wear Dudley's hand-me-downs any longer that was for sure.)

After his defense of the bushy-haired witch, Ronald Weasley had decided that he didn't much want to talk to him anymore and Harry was fine with that. The Weasley family was traditionally Light oriented anyway and he was sure his dad wouldn't want him mixing with the sort of people who wanted him to stay out of power. And he had even gotten away with not properly introducing himself (a social faux pas, but excusable considering his current situation).

By the time that they arrived to Hogwarts and had been greeted by Hagrid (whom Harry had greeted happily enough while Weasley gaped in awe at the man's larger size), Harry was focused once again on the end result as the group of first years were led across the Great Lake and up into the grand castle itself.

He needed to find out what really happened that night his dad disappeared, where his dad had been all this time, and most importantly if he would take custody of Harry away from the Dursleys.

He had read carefully through his purchased thome and knew that it was unheard of for the parent to not receive custody of a magical child. Especially if it was against non-magical guardians. It was the opinion of the Ministry that only magical guardians could properly raise magical children.

Muggleborns were the gray area no one wanted to meddle in even under the most dire circumstances. No one except for his dad, of course.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry's head jerked up and out of his thoughts. By the look on the woman's stern face- Professor McGonogall, his brain reminded him- she had called him more than once. He hurriedly walked forward. "Yes ma'am?"

Her lips pursed and she gestured to the stool with the hand that held an old leathery hat. Harry blinked at her a couple of times and she let out a sharp breath. "Please sit down."

He hurried forward to comply. When the old hat was placed on his head it fell down over his eyes, obscuring the entire room. In seconds, he heard a voice in his head, which he assumed belonged to the hat. It must be a magical hat, after all.

"Oh. Difficult, very difficult. You've got quite a mix in this head of yours. A bit of bravery, not a bad mind, unerringly loyal and there's this drive in you. Not quite ambition, but a need to prove yourself. Or rather avarice. Now that's interesting indeed..."

Harry shut his eyes and thought really hard. 'Please sort me in a good house.'

"Make no mistake, Mr. Potter, they're all magnificent houses. Each will cultivate you into a skilled wizard. But... I think Slytherin might be the one for you... It is that thirst of yours..."

"Hagrid says that Slytherin is the house the Dark Lord came from," Harry whispered to the hat.

He didn't want the stern-looking Professor McGonagall to hear him asking after his father. It seemed to be the general consensus that all talk of the man was to be curtailed and was practically outright forbidden. Harry understood the concept as the Dursely's treated Harry much the same way.

"That he was. Slytherin has a way of helping one's such as yourself and the Dark Lord on your way to greatness."

And there was that word again. Ollivander said his father had done terrible, but great things as well. He would be one step closer to the father the Dursley's had spurned all his childhood. If he was Harry's only chance of leaving Privet Drive, he was going to seize this opportunity with both hands.

"Slytherin. I want to go to Slytherin."

The Sorting Hat was silent for a few seconds. Like Harry had surprised it. "You are a very interesting sort, young man. I look forward to seeing what you become in SLYTHERIN!"

The last word had been shouted to the entire Great Hall. Harry blinked in surprise as the hat was taken from his head so suddenly, he was blinded by the shift from darkness to booming candle light. A thousand candles was nothing to sneeze at, he thought as he stumbled blinded from the stool.

The blond boy from earlier- Malfoy had a rather mean looking smile on his face as he clapped loudly at his seat. Harry pointedly sat at the furthest end of the table away from his other classmates. Just because he was in their house didn't mean they were going to treat him well. The Dursley's had taught him that well enough.

He glanced up at Hagrid and when he received a wave, Harry felt a little bit heartier. The groundskeeper seemed to have an odd fascination with dangerous creatures and didn't so much as flinch away from a monster like Harry. Although he was scared of Harry's father. Maybe when Harry grew up, he would look more monstrous and would gather the same reaction from his first friend in time.

The last boy sorted- Zabini, Blaise- sat down next to Harry and with a few nonsensical words the Headmaster announced the start of the feast. It hadn't truly occurred to Harry when the other students had talked about the Welcome Feast just how much food was required to be a feast. There were sandwiches, sausages, rolls, stewed carrots, roasted potatoes, three different kinds of roasted birds and at least seven kinds of pudding. Harry could have swore he saw a roasted boar on the Gryffindor table- with an apple in its mouth and everything! "Aren't you gonna eat?"

Harry turned to see the blond boy who had sat to his right was frowning down at his plate. He followed the boy's gaze to see he had put some bangers and mash and peas on his plate so far. Deciding that dessert was in order for his first day at magical school he reached for the tray of tarts in front of him and put one on his plate. Then a second. Surely there was more than enough for Harry to get two? "Cheers," he mumbled to the Zabini boy when he filled his fancy cup.

Harry was happy to find that everything was absolutely delicious. He wondered briefly how long it had taken the Professor McGonogall to cook all of this food and if the other female professors had helped. Aunt Petunia normally made him cook by himself unless it was a dessert dish she wanted to make. Maybe the other students had helped her finish up while the first years were coming across the lake. "How was your summer Harry?"

Harry's bright green gaze fixed to the blond again as he scrunched up his nose. The bloke's hair was much more straw-colored than Malfoy's own silvery locks, but that was neither here nor there. What bothered Harry was that he had called him by his first name. All the books on pureblood customs insisted that first names were only used to show either the utmost disrespect or a fond regard. Seeing as Harry didn't even know this boy, he hoped he just didn't know the custom rather than actively trying to be rude. After all, Harry hadn't done anything to him to justify it (but then again, that had never stopped the Dursleys). "I didn't give you permission to use my name," he pointed out helpfully. Zabini who sat to his left started laughing uproariously as if Harry had told a very good joke. "Careful there, Nott. Potter's old-fashioned he is."

Nott must have been the blond bloke. He bared his teeth to Zabini in a feral parody of a smile but didn't bother replying. The food was delicious, though a bit much for Harry considering how little he was used to eating. By the time that the Headmaster had called for the end of the meal and stood to address them a final time, Harry had sequestered a couple of rolls and a slice of ham away in his robes. The tart he had eaten earlier had been a favorite of many and hadn't lasted past the first twenty minutes of dinner.

The second speech that the Headmaster gave was much more sensible than the first. Warning students away from the Forbidden Forest and a sequestered third floor corridor that held unimaginable danger (and horrible death for any who would dare trespass). And an even shorter reminder on the restriction of spells within the corridor (which was slightly confusing as it was a magical school).

When he released them for the night, an older girl in Slytherin robes walked up to their end of the table. "Listen up first years! I'm Prefect Helena Dodderidge and I'll be showing you the way to the common room. Come line up around me and we'll wait for the mass of heaving bodies to clear out a bit."

She had a rather roguish smile that made her look like a female pirate captain than a prefect. The loose brown ringlets she wore her hair in made her look softer than the smile would suggest.

"Can't believe anyone would make you a prefect," Nott grumbled as he stood up from the table.

The smile pointed around the edges. Obviously Prefect Dodderidge had heard him. Harry thought it was rather stupid to say anything mean when someone was around to hear it and especially if they were older than you. More to the point, his book had said it was bad manners to say things so outright. If anything, Nott should have wondered about a trait of the Prefect's that would have made her a good fit for another job, but poor for her current responsibilities in an ernest 'tea-time' voice. (Whatever that meant.)

"Ow! You stabbed me with those talons you call nails, you crone."

Harry smiled to see the prefect wrap an arm around Nott's shoulders. "Hush," she brushed Nott's complaint aside with little concern. "It was a love tap, cousin. You hardly even bled."

Ah so they were cousins, then? And it appeared that it was acceptable to nick someone with your claws and fangs. Harry frowned down at his own hands. Prefect Dodderidge's nails were much longer and terrifying looking than his own which were chewed to the kwik. Maybe she was also part monster? Harry made a promise to himself that he would stop biting his nails that very moment. He thought that a monster's nails should be much stronger than a normal person's nails, but by the same strand so should his teeth so that made sense as well.

He wondered if the Nott family had any monster blood in their line or if they simply liked to appear stronger? "This looks clear enough. Don't want any of the other houses following us down into the dungeons."

Harry's head snapped up. "The dungeons?"

Isn't that where they locked up monsters? Did they decide they didn't want to teach him after all and it was best to lock him up before his dad found out? The Dursley's had quickly put a latch onto his cupboard door when he was younger and had taken to creep out in the middle of night for food.

"Don't worry," Dodderidge cheerfully called back as she manhandled Nott out the door. "It's not as creepy as you think."

The grin she sent back wasn't offering any comfort and didn't help him think he wasn't about to be hidden away in the bowels of a Scottish castle.

True to her word, it wasn't as creepy as Harry thought. It was much much creeper. He spent the entire night switching his gaze between the window that looked out at the black lake and the doorway that led into the common room proper. Between the mermaids that liked to knock on the window and the scarily intimidating Head of House Harry thought he was bound to never sleep again.

He was wrong of course.

Harry awoke in pitch blackness to the sound of swearing coming from somewhere to the right of him. "Can someone get the torches? What's the use of a ruddy house elf if they can't keep a fire going?"

It took him a moment to remember that he wasn't in his cupboard- or the spare bedroom upstairs that the Dursleys had forced him into. He was at Hogwarts. He was going to learn magic. He was going to find his father.

With a smile on his face Harry dressed in what was called a tunic and a pair of dark grey trousers that had buttons instead of a zipper. The vest that Madam Malkin assured him was to be worn over the tunic matched the trousers yet had a rather interesting embroidered leaf design stitched into it in a white thread. Harry followed the lead of Crabbe who was donning a similar attire and tucked his tunic in his trousers carefully before he buttoned up the vest. By the time they were all down in the common room (Malfoy having taken the longest in the bathroom), Harry thought he looked like a proper heir.

Prefect Dodderidge had been waiting for them, her brown ringlets pulled up into a rather impressive and intricate up-do. It was a fancier version of Professor McGonogall's tartan bun and much prettier for it. After she gave them all a quick once over (and fixed Tracey Davis' robe which had been thrown on inside out) she escorted them to breakfast.

Breakfast wasn't as fancy as dinner, a fact that Harry was thankful for as he doubted he could eat so much for every single meal, especially with three meals a day. He grabbed a couple links of sausage, some eggs, and a slice of toast. He'd be lucky if he would be able to finish even that much.

"Your schedule, Mister Potter."

Harry looked up to see his Head of House holding out a sheet of parchment to him, his beetle black gaze narrowed and analyzing. After grabbing it the man continued further down the table handing Crabbe, Malfoy, and Goyle their own respective schedules.

A quick glance at the paper showed that Potions was the first class they had after breakfast. Harry had never felt more pleased that he had read a book before in his life. He hadn't gone through and taken notes or anything so excessive, but he had definitely flipped through the first handful of chapters and tried to memorize a few of the more interesting tidbits of information. Hopefully it would be enough to keep him away from his head of house's ire.

Thirty minutes later Prefect Dodderidge came down to the end of the table. Harry finished his goblet of milk and wiped his hands down at her smile. "Good morning Potter," she greeted before she lowered her voice, "I'm not sure if you've noticed or not but the Headmaster has been staring at you all morning."

Harry resisted the urge to look up at the head table. He had noticed. But the cooky old Headmaster seemed harmless enough... if one disregarded he had defeated a Dark Wizard that had terrorized all of Eastern Europe fifty years ago. "I have. But he hasn't approached me so I thought I'd leave it be for now."

The prefect nodded but set something down n the table in front of him. "Just in case. I'm not sure how good your occlumency shields are but by the looks of it you don't have any. Wear this until you've learned how to occlude your mind properly."

It was a necklace of some sort. On the pendant was etched weird squiggles. "Is this a runic necklace," he asked in awe. He had read about such things and knew that it took considerable control over one's magic to make enchanted items. He hadn't delved into the subject, there wasn't any time and he was already working at a disadvantage to other magical children. There had been more important things to learn, but he promised himself that during his first break from classes he was sure to look into the craft in more detail. And find out just what an occlumency shield was. He put on the necklace and traded a smile with the fifth year student. "We have about fifteen minutes until first bell so I'll show you the way to the potions classroom now," Dodderidge raised her voice to reach further down the table.

She waved them down towards the doorway after grabbing an apple and stowing it away somewhere inside her robe. Harry followed her example. It was always a good idea to have extra food handy. That was just good sense.

"We escort first week of classes so you don't get lost. Hogwarts may look massive on the outside, but that doesn't account for the trick stairs, moving staircases, and changing classrooms. The normal charms classroom you'd use is in the closed corridor so you won't have to worry about it with Flitwick, but Professor McGonogall's door likes to move up and down the hallway."

Harry couldn't help the excited smile that plastered itself onto his face as he followed Prefect Dodderidge. The castle sounded absolutely amazing positively bursting at the seams with magic. He hoped to explore more once he got his bearings. She continued to prattle on as they wound themselves further into the dungeons. It was a maze of epic proportions down here and Harry was sure if he hadn't been with someone he would have definitely been lost. (They should probably put maps here like at the zoo. With a 'you are here' sticker and everything.)

"Professor Snape is the youngest man to achieve his potions mastery in almost three hundred years. He's considered a prodigy amongst the community," Draco added his own two-pence as Crabbe and Goyle pushed their way through the other first years to join them. "My father says that my own skills are just as spectacular as his when he was our age."

"Then your father is mistaken," snapped Nott behind him.

In between one step to the next both Crabbe and Goyle turned on the bloke, Draco not bothering to even acknowledge him. "It's a shame that we have to have potions with the Gryffindors of all people," Malfoy continued on unconcerned. "They're bound to smoke us out of the dungeons in the first half hour. Weasley might even set his cauldron on fire."

Harry frowned and turned his head to glance back at Nott who was being crowded to one side of the corridor. "Malfoy," Harry said. "It's not a crime to speak ill of someone. Just bad manners to do so in front of their family."

Draco sniffed disdainfully and lifted his chin. "Yes, you're right. It's not Nott's fault that he has the manners of a street urchin. Crabbe! Goyle! Hurry up. I want to get the best seat for potions class."

Harry's frown deepened into a scowl. "That's not what I said," he grumbled to himself.

He was quickly coming to the realization that Draco Malfoy was a bit of an idiot. Not cruel just because he could be like Dudley. But cruel because he was too stupid to realize that no one else bought into his own sense of self-importance.

It was probably a good thing that Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be much more easy-going than Malfoy. Harry didn't think he could handle being polite to someone like him for too long without saying something to bollocks up their new friendship. At least Malfoy didn't seem to beat up anyone he bullied (even if he did send Crabbe and Goyle to scare them).

"This is you lot here," Prefect Dodderidge gave them a sharp smile that made her hazel eyes narrow. "Don't be too concerned when the professor is a bit late. He and Professor McGonogall have a bet going on for most dramatic entrances amongst the first years. He'll probably come barging in a minute or two late with a dramatic speech prepared."

With that she strutted down the hallway and straight past a small huddle of Gryffindors that had appeared down the hall. "Come on then," Draco called as he pushed his way into the indicated doorway.

All of Harry's initial observations about the space were completely based in his senses. The smell was a sharp entanglement of scents that reminded Harry of a mixture between the garden during early spring and the dumpster behind his primary school. He wrinkled his nose and carefully followed the bright strands of Draco's hair. It was dim inside the classroom, even darker than the corridor outside. This was most notably due to the large lack of torches lining the walls in here. Instead there were windows at the front around each side of a large chalkboard that spilled light into the rest of the room. It had been raining that morning so very little sunlight was actually filtering in from the overcast day outside.

Despite the strong smells and the barely lit room Harry was able to make his way to a desk with very little problem. It was only a small concession on his part that he ended up sitting next to Malfoy. He didn't want to risk tripping over his own feet or worse, a classmate, in his attempt to sit elsewhere.

The rest of their classmates slowly trickled in with the Gryffindors segregating themselves to the complete other side of the classroom. There was boisterous conversation from the Lion House and quieter murmurs from his own until true to Dodderidge's claims Professor Snape came storming in in a whirl of black robes that made him appear like a moving shadow. He quickly went through roll call and then started an introduction to the arts of potion making.

Harry, having heard from upper years how dno-nonsense their head of house was took out his quill and was taking careful notes.

"Bottle fame... brew glory..." Harry whispered under his breath as he scratched carefully in the parchment.

"Mister Potter."

Harry glanced up from his notes eager to excel in his head of houses' class. The smells were rather strong, but nothing he wouldn't get used to with time. The smell wasn't dissimilar to the dumpster at his primary he had taken to hiding behind, but there had never been such interesting things to come from it. He wondered if stoppering death could be brewed after the event that might cause one's own death. Like something to bring someone back from near-death, like Harry's father. "Yes Master Snape?"

He watched as whatever forward momentum the man had built up staggered and came to a brief halt. Was Harry wrong to address him by his professional title? His textbook had said it was only proper to address someone with a mastery as such while receiving instruction in their field. Perhaps his head of house preferred the more informal 'professor' title?

"What... what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry thought rather carefully (and ignored Hermione Granger's hand shooting straight up in the air a few tables to his left). He knew enough about wormwood from his reading that when used as a base it pretty much augmented anything and everything added to it. But an infusion wasn't the same as a base. Rather it was like a concentrated... something or other. "...it would be extracted through boiling it, I think... You wouldn't get a very concentrated version just by soaking up cut bits..." Harry thought out loud. "And asphodel is... a sleep aid when brewed in a tea..." He knew that much from gardening. "So a sleeping potion? A really strong one, so probably a draught not a tincture. I don't think sleeping potions can be elixirs..."

He looked up at the Professor. "A sleeping draught, Mast-Professor."

The man stood frozen like a statue. Harry felt his face flush and he ducked his

head away from the narrowed gaze of his head of house. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I do not know the exact name."

Silence met his admission. Just when Harry had begun to accept his fate of losing the man's regard during the first day of classes, his voice cleared away his maudlin thoughts. "It is called the Draught of the Living Death, Mister Potter."

Harry immediately wrote down the name to look for later. Dodderidge said that their head of house never went over anything without a reason. Something concerning that particular potion was sure to be on their test. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry glanced up from his notes to have the professor's eyes still trained on him. Oh. He'd have to keep answering until he got one right, then. "That's the goat hairball from chapter three. It can be used as a cure to certain types of poisons."

The potions master arched an eyebrow and Harry flushed to realize he once again didn't answer the precise question. "Goats make it... so they throw it up maybe? Like a cat?"

By the flurry of arm-waving in his periphery, Harry had once again fallen short. It was obvious he would have to be more careful about his readings in the future. Skimming the book was obviously not enough.

"It is found in the stomach of the goat. It is not the same as a cat's hairball and resembles a stone in appearance."

Harry flushed in embarrassment and quickly jotted down the correction. He looked back up to the professor almost immediately, waiting for his next try. He was sure that if he didn't get this question right he was sure to lose his house points (and he doesn't care what anyone said, it couldn't really be impossible if it was because of Harry).

Professor Snape stared at him for a few seconds in silence. The sound of snickering came from the Gryffindor side of the room. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry shot the man a quick smile of gratitude. This was an easier question, probably picked for his benefit. "Nothing, sir. It's a flower. It's also called aconitum."

They were very pretty blueish-purple flowers that grew on the side of the house that received the least amount of sun. "They're poisonous in great quantities, but shouldn't be if brewed properly. Actually it's probably quite useful as a counteragent to the sleeping draught you were talking about earlier. It causes bursts of adrenaline and heart palpitations which could probably negate the sleeping qualities of the potion."

The professor remained silent for a few seconds before he nodded his head sharply once and turned to head to his desk. "As you say. The wide-eye potion is what you're looking for."

Harry added it to his notes. Professor Snape continued this interrogative style for twenty minutes more with various levels of success and failures. He even called on Miss Granger once, but cut off her explanation on why potions needed bases when she went past three minutes and looked no closer to a conclusion. (Harry couldn't help but notice that he made a point to not look in her direction afterwards lest she try to answer another question.)

All in all, Slytherin house received three points by the end of the class period and Gryffindor ended up with a negative one. (Seamus Finnigan made a rather slanderous comment about the function of amortentia.) It was a good start to magical school.

* * *

**A/N: I know I said bi-weekly updates, but I've written three chapters in the last week and felt that it wouldn't be a problem to post this early. This is one of the chapters I warned you about. It had gotten so long I ended up cutting it in half. So just imagine if chapter two and three were just one long update. I imagine that this one is chunky enough to not necessitate anything more being a little north of six thousand words. The next two chapters are markedly smaller, but will develop some relationships between Harry and those who will come to be rather important in the years to come. **


	3. Chapter 3

**See the end for Author's Notes. **

* * *

**Chapter Three**

By Wednesday it had become a habit for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle to walk with Harry behind Prefect Dodderidge. "Now Flitwick isn't all rainbows and smiles. He'll be nice enough to you lot with you being first years and all, but don't expect him to be lax on charm safety. You won't cast your first spell for a month at least," Dodderidge prattled on as she herded them up the stairs and into the main hall.

Harry was pleased to see that the Gryffindors split up from them and headed towards the great hall. Which meant they might have charms with the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. (He was hoping the latter so he didn't feel too stupid for not having read the Charms textbook at all.)

"I heard that he was a dueling master and was reigning champion for three years in a row before he retired," Draco said in his I'm-somebody-important-voice. "My father had seen several of his duels live during his last tournament. He said it was absolutely spectacular."

Harry frowned. He remembered the short man that Hagrid had been sitting next to. He didn't look like he would have ever been a dueling master, but then again the Headmaster didn't seem like he could have led a rebel force against his father ten years ago, so appearance might be extremely misleading in the Wizarding World.

As it turned out, Professor Flitwick's class consisted of a lecture/discussion of the different classifications of charmwork and certain examples of each class. They had Charms with the Ravenclaws and quickly learned how many strange and unusual charms there really were. Magic was amazing. (The Ravenclaws less so as one boy almost came to blows with his housemate about whether orchidea should count as a transfiguration or not. Harry had no idea why it mattered one way or the other. Orchids were lovely all the same.)

"That's just how that house is," Crabbe assured him after they were released. "Those eagles are a hodgepodge of curios, intellectuals, and literalists. Half of the house can't be bothered with school work at all because they have come up with some new thing to discuss in their gatherings."

It was strange that the house known for intelligence was mostly just curious. Harry wondered if the Sorting Hat had perhaps spoken out of turn when describing Ravenclaw? And if so, did that mean it might have stereotyped the other houses as well? What about his own?

"Well I think that they're ridiculous," Malfoy sneered as he strutted in front of them. "Can you imagine being sorted into a house who's trying to work against themselves?"

"It actually sounds like a bit of fun," Harry disagreed, not liking Malfoy's tone very much.

The blond snorted but continued on. He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Can you imagine what the world would be like if the Dark Lord hadn't perished. We'd be kings. "

Harry's head snapped up at the first mention about his father he had heard since that conversation with Hagrid months ago. "You know about the Dark Lord?" Harry burst out.

Malfoy's reflexive sneer faltered when he caught sight of Harry's expression. He paled, but kept his mask together rather well considering how out of his depth he looked. "What's it to you, Potter," he accentuated the last name as if that was a deterrent.

Harry rolled his eyes and increased his pace to walk next to Malfoy. "No one will tell me about him and I've been asking anyone I can. Is his name really Voldemort-" the children flinched, but Harry had gotten used to this and continued on, "Where was he from? Does he have other family? Is it true that he could speak to snakes too? Do I look..."

Harry trailed off. 'Do I look like him?' he wanted to ask, but Malfoy and Goyle's faces had slackened and shock. Crabbe looked intrigued. "Are you saying, you're curious about the Dark Lord?" Crabbe asked.

Harry nodded emphatically. Finally, someone who would actually listen to him. "Yes. I've been trying for weeks to learn about him, but not even the Flourish and Blotts has very much about him. Most of the books about that time talk about me, but none of it's true so I doubt that anything I would find would be of any help."

"Then why ask us?" Malfoy finally snapped.

Harry titled his head. What an odd question. "Your families were followers of his, yes? You know the truth of things."

"The truth of- what truth is that?" Crabbe asked surprised.

The boy's expression moved from its bored state and Harry was momentarily taken aback. But the mere thought of all the information he could gather about his father had him focusing once more. "What was he like? Surely you've heard tales of his greatness."

Mind you, Harry didn't think everything the man had done was very great- killing people for having Muggle parents was one such instance. They couldn't help that any more than Harry could help being born a Monster. "'Greatness'..." Malfoy droned. "Have you gone around the bend. You're Harry Potter!"

Harry shrugged. He had already decided that he wanted nothing to do with the Potter name. The man his mother had run to after she left his father had died long ago and Harry had no memories of the man. Admittedly, he had no memories of his mother either.

"Yes, your point?"

Crabbe had gone silent once more, but his bored expression had taken on a more curious one. "My point: you can't just go around asking about the ex-Dark Lord!" Malfoy hissed, his eyes darting up and down the corridor. Davis, Parkinson, and Nott were further down the hall and Zabini had yet to appear from around the corner so now was as good as any.

Malfoy grabbed his arm and dragged him into an empty classroom a few feet away. It was covered in what appeared to be several layers of dust and Harry wondered why they needed such a big castle to begin with if the class sizes were so small?

"Listen Potter, I know you're powerful, but you can't just go around sprouting how great you think the Dark Lord was. Maybe you should've thought about that before you killed him!" Malfoy hissed.

Harry frowned. "That was an accident though," he grumbled.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy all looked at him in similar states of shock. "What?" Harry asked defensively.

"You 'accidentally' killed the Dark Lord."

It was Goyle who gathered his wits first and was the one to ask the question that seemed to be in the mind of the others. Harry huffed and crossed his arms. "Well of course. Do you think I would actually try to kill him?"

What type of son tried to kill their own father? No, it was definitely not on purpose. "Besides," he continued, "I was just a baby. I hardly had enough control of my magic to properly teleport when I was eight, how could I have possibly been able to control a spell that would destroy someone's body?"

"Teleport?"

"You apparated when you were eight?" Crabbe asked with a smile on his lips. "That's rather impressive accidental magic actually."

Malfoy put on his 'I'm-a-git' face and lifted his nose. Harry wanted to tell the blond he had something in his nose just once to see what the boy did. "Yes well, it's only to be expected. My father says that Potter is a Dark wizard to rival that of the Dark Lord. Everyone knows that he's going to be powerful."

Everyone did not know that. For one, it was news to Harry. He doesn't really think he was the one to kill his father- maybe it was a spell cast wrong or some such nonsense. He had read that spell backlash from rituals that were poorly planned or executed were capable of leveling entire villages. Which meant it was something like that that had blown up his dad.

"Well, if it's the Dark Lord you want to know about, we can ask our fathers for more information. But for Circe's sake don't go around mentioning him in public."

Harry rolled his eyes as he followed the other three boys back to the door. "Of course I know that. Everyone acts like they've been attacked anytime I mention him."

"Mention who?"

Harry jumped. He hadn't seen Zabini leaned against the wall beside the doorway until just then. "What are you spying on us?" Malfoy snapped.

Zabini lifted his hands as if weighing a scale. "I like information. So I gather all types."

Harry narrowed his eyes. He had known that his house had been considered an aspiring politicians playground, but it hadn't occurred to him that that might include some of the more nefarious habits of the rich and powerful as well. Primarily, all the secrets and blackmail one commonly read about in stories and heard during housewives afternoon socials. He wanted to know what exactly Zabini did with the information he gathered, but Malfoy spoke again. "Mind your own business," and strutted down the corridor.

Goyle immediately followed and Crabbe motioned him forward so that he wouldn't be left alone with Zabini's quizzical smile. "All that did was make him more curious," Crabbe mutterred under his breath.

Harry thought the same thing. Malfoy was stupid. And of course it didn't end there. For the next few days Zabini and Malfoy heckled one another almost without stop. Half of it appeared amiable on the surface, but Harry was fast becoming proficient and understaning double-speak and recognized that the two used hidden meanings and metaphors often to insult one another. It was Thursday's lunch when Malfoy seemed to have had enough and things became a lot more direct between the two. Zabini sat across from Malfoy and next to Goyle and had kept up a steady stream of needling questions and observations throughout half of the meal. Malfoy was pink in his indignant rage. "Don't think just because you've sorted Slytherin means I owe you anything. Your mother marrying yet another pureblood doesn't change her own status. You should remember your place, Zabini," Malfoy turned his nose up at the Italian boy and effectively ended the conversation.

Zabini finally let things be, but his narrowed eyes was a clear indication that the slight was not forgotten. Harry wanted to tell Malfoy off- even if his father had information about the Dark Lord the blond was still a right foul git- but the memory of Professor Snape's warnings kept him silent. House unity was more important than house points. The potions master had made it inescapably clear on what would happen to any students caught quarreling amongst themselves. And while Malfoy and Zabini were relatively ignored (or as ignored as anyone as distractingly attention-seeking as someone like Malfoy could get) anything and everything Harry did was under a magnifying glass. He didn't know whether Professor Snape or the Headmaster watched him more closely.

"Malfoy," Crabbe interrupted the staring match between the three heirs. "What is the difference between wolfsbane and aconite?"

The blond rolled his eyes as if he was put into a great disservice as he turned back fully to their table. "Honestly Crabbe were you even awake during class this week?"

Like a master tactician Crabbe kept Malfoy occupied until they needed to start heading down to Herbology which was held out on the grounds. Harry dragged his feet until he was the last person in their group and several paces behind everyone else.

Everyone except Crabbe who remained by his side. They walked along in silence until the voices of their classmates was a low murmuring of voices. It was then that Harry spoke. "Why does anyone listen to Malfoy when he's such a git all the time?"

Crabbe shrugged. "His father holds the most active Wizengamot seats of any pureblood Lord. It makes them very powerful. My father holds two and Greg's one. We both lost a seat each to the Malfoy's ten years ago among other things. I reckon my dad would curse Lord Malfoy in a heartbeat if he could get away with it, but Draco's pretty much harmless. He just has a bit of a temper and a mouth to match. Not exactly high on my list of fears at the moment."

"Huh," Harry huffed. "I guess... I don't think I should be friends with anyone who acts like Dudley."

"But you're not."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that, but I wouldn't be friends with you either if you acted that way."

"But we're not friends. We're classmates."

Harry frowned. "Of course we're friends. We eat all our meals together, sit with each other in all our classes, study together in the common room, and walk to our classes together."

Crabbe chuckled and shook his head.

What?" Harry protested.

"It's just nice to know someone so innocent. I forget sometimes you're not really one of us."

Harry flinched and came to a stop in the corridor. "What's that supposed to mean?"

(Did Crabbe know he was part-monster? Did he suspect?)

When Crabbe turned back around he didn't look apologetic in the slightest.

"Haven't you looked into the genealogies of the other Slytherins yet?"

"Why would I?"

Crabbe laughed again. Harry bit his lip to keep from snarling at the boy. "Potter there are only seven half-bloods in Slytherin house and two of them are first years."

"So?" Harry crossed his arms. "Your point?"

"We don't even have four hundred total in our house yet the next smallest is almost two-hundred students more in student population."

"I still don't see your po-"

"Do you know what the war was about? The one with the Dark Lord?"

Harry scoffed. Crabbe was making no sense and asking stupid questions to boot. He had read seven books in this last month alone trying to learn more about his father. "Of course I do."

"Really? Because by the end of it, everyone assumed it was about exterminating Muggles and Muggleborns and bringing Half-bloods and magical creatures into eternal servitude to the Purebloods."

This made Harry hesitate. He hadn't known about the magical creatures part- he had thought werewolves had fought on the side of his father during the war- but the rest was pretty much the consensus from all the texts he had access to. Had Harry been reading from unreliable sources?

"I don't understand," he finally admitted.

Crabbe nodded as if this was the only right answer. "I know. We all do. Potter, the reason why you always have someone with you isn't because you have friends. It's because you're a wild card. A loose canon. A double-edged sword."

At this Harry growled. It probably wasn't as impressive as an adult monster growl, but it showed how angry he was at the accusations being thrown at him. He wasn't stupid and he sure as Hades was not a Gryffindor. "I cannot be all of that at once."

"You can and you are," Crabbe snapped. "You're like a baby, Potter. You have no training, no mask. You have the fame to rival Dumbledore and sorting into Slytherin has brought you notoriety. Noble families have long since known you were a dark wizard to rival that of the Dark Lord, but now the sheep are saying it too and with much less reverence. You cross House lines and are completely oblivious to the hierarchy your existence has disrupted in Slytherin. I bet you haven't even noticed the fighting amongst the lower years."

Harry frowned. "But Slytherins aren't allowed to fight with each oth-"

"Like a child. Naive and trusting. Foolish and blind. You're being watched, Potter. Monitored. Protected from your own lack of skills in operating within the house you sorted. By right, it is supposed to fall to Malfoy or Professor Snape to show you the basics if an upperclassman does not claim you, but you've managed to piss off our Head of House and can't bite your tongue around Malfoy without actually biting your tongue."

A rock was lodged in Harry's throat. He knew what the burning in his eyes and the pain in his chest meant. He hadn't truly cried in years. The Dursley's had lost their control over his emotions in that way about the same time he had started first form. Crying from pain was something entirely different than crying from emotion. And right now Harry felt like he was found lacking. Unworthy. A waste of life, and now of magic. He had thought he had friends amongst the Slytherins. Had friends amongst the other witches and wizards.

"So why do you even bother? Just leave me be," he croaked around the lump in his throat.

"Because leaving you alone would be the biggest mistake of my life."

Harry scowled. For all of his harsh words Crabbe still didn't look at all apologetic. "What...?"

"Right now no one wants to deal with you so everyone pretty much ignores you. That is a mistake I will not be making. You might not be the freak of nature that Granger is, but I can tell you're smart. You practically soak up anything from the lessons that catch your attention. You have an uncanny sensitivity to passive magic and an eye for battle magic. I wouldn't put it past you to have a proficiency in the Dark Arts, either."

Harry wrinkled his nose in distrust. "Dark Arts is illegal at Hogwarts, Crabbe."

The smile that the taller male gave Harry had him excited for some unknown reason. As if Crabbe had a secret he was going to share with him. 'But then again', Harry had to remind himself. 'You're not friends. Why would he share anything with you. There's going to be a cost. There's always a cost in Slytherin house.'

"So you're sticking it out because you think I'll be someone useful one day."

Crabbe's smile grew an edge. "You're already useful, Potter. I'm sticking around because I know you're going to change the world."

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. That wasn't at all what he had been expecting. "The wizarding world has been infamously resistant to change."

"I didn't say anything about _just_ the wizarding world."

Harry gasped. What was that supposed to mean? In truth it had been the British Wizarding World that his father had tried to fix. To alter the wizarding world as a whole was just a pipe dream Harry hoPed he could help his father to attain. But the entire world? Both magical and muggle? From every human, goblin, elf, and selkie. Because that was what it had sounded like Crabbe was suggesting.

By the time Harry's gaze snapped back up to Crabbe he was already several steps further down the corridor. "We'll be late to Herbology if you don't hurry."

* * *

**A/N: This is smaller than the second chapter, but still a bit bigger than the first one. In my initial notes I had the third chapter as the end of their first year after Harry's annual meeting with You-Know-Who. Just imagine how behemoth these chapters would be if I had left it like that! But once I fleshed out the beginning more to validate character developments that are realities in the middle and latter half of the story it became completely impossible to do it any justice with the only a handful of build up chapters. So instead I ended up with these little filler chapters that although important, are slow paced. As the story progresses these chapters will become bigger (six through ten are among my bigger word counts presently) so there's that to look forward to.**

**À bientôt**


	4. Chapter 4

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Professor Snape nodded once. "Acceptable, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you're not a complete dunderhead."

Harry looked up at his head of house in shock before his mouth split into a wide grin. "Thank you, Professor."

The potions master nodded once before he turned in a dramatic swirl of his black robes. "Weasley! Just what type of swill is in your cauldron?"

Next to him Malfoy harrumphed. "He didn't say anything about my potion because they're always perfect," he said matter-of-factly.

Harry didn't say anything. Partly because he thought Draco was right and that went without saying and partly because he didn't think his classmate needed any bigger of a head than he already had. One would swear that Malfoy was Merlin himself the way he went on and on.

Harry thought that it was infinitely better to be an unknown factor. In his case only Crabbe, Professor Sprout, and Professor Snape seemed to think he had any worth. (Disregarding how carefully the Headmaster had been watching him. The upper years were convinced that he absolutely detested Slytherins as a whole thanks to the Dark Lord.)

He made quick work of bottling up a sample of his brew and cleaning his area (he had seen Patil make the mistake of using a scourgify to clean her cauldron and the resulting seven inch essay she was assigned because of it due the next class). By the time Harry was done, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Zabini were also done on the Slytherin side. Brown and Patil were still neutralizing their workspace and Finnigan's cauldron had caught on fire. Harry couldn't help but think that if the man was a little less intimidating, the Gryffindors might not cause as many potions mishaps on a daily basis.

By the time they were released and were heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts (a rather waste of a class period, but occasionally they garnered some interesting information from the squirrely Professor Quirrell) Harry had almost forgotten what day it was. This wasn't such a big deal to the Slytherins who practiced more ancient rituals as a rule, but the chattering of the Ravenclaws quickly ruined any peace Harry might have created.

"Potter! Hey Potter, you want to place a bet? We're taking wagers for how large the jack o' lantern will be this year. The average is around nine feet ranging from anywhere from five to fourteen."

"What are you all nattering about?" Zabini asked leaning back from the table in front of Harry.

The ravenclaw- the other Patil girl- smiled prettily at his classmate. "Well our house takes bets every year for the size of the Great Hall jack o' lantern the groundskeeper brings in for Professor Vector to carve. It's open to everyone, mind you. Bagshot in fifth year is keeping track, but you only have until the end of last period to place your bets. So you'll have to talk to him at lunch."

"There's always the best sweets at the Samhain feast," Goyle smiled softly. "I hope the elves make chocolate biscuits."

Harry remained silent throughout. Samhain. This was the night he had almost killed his father. The night he had effectively ruined his own life. It wasn't surprising honestly. Harry had a habit of wrecking everything he touched. It was probably the monster part of him that made it so easy to sow destruction and chaos wherever he went.

"We're going to be late for class if we wait around in the corridor," Vince pointed out as he herded him and Harry towards the charms classroom.

"I hope there isn't another lecture today," Patil whined. "I was up all night trying to finish that Transfiguration Paper due this morning. My sister thinks it will be something interesting, but I know I'm going to fall asleep if he drones on all class."

"You could take a nap in Binns' class," Malfoy pointed out. "Not like his classes are getting any livelier."

Harry snorted at the horrible pun as they turned the corner and he immediately ran into someone. "Oof!"

Harry would've fallen right into Malfoy if it hadn't been for Crabbe's quick reflexes. The taller boy grabbed his flailing arm and prevented what was sure to be a head-on collision. Harry had only to see the smallest bit of bushy brown hair to know who he had run into. "Granger," Harry called after her but the girl continued to barrel through the crowd of students and back towards the Great Hall. "What's gotten into her?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Couldn't you tell? She was crying."

Harry frowned. He hadn't noticed. It had looked like she was in a bit of a rush honestly. "It's probably Weasley," Crabbe mumbled as he nodded his head.

Sure enough, the red-head in question was coming down the hall with a gaggle of his fellow first year Gryffindor boys looking slightly guilty but completely unremorseful.

Patil and Turpin both narrowed their eyes in displeasure. Michael Corner, who had been quiet up until that point, glared. "We don't like her much either, but that's no reason to be as rude as her housemates are to her," he said as the group of Gryffindor boys passed them.

Harry wasn't completely oblivious. He had noticed that Hermione Granger wasn't very well liked by her housemates. Unsurprising considering that her brand of intelligence consisted of vomiting out every book she's ever read word for word. As far as her eidetic memory went it was pretty astounding. But she hadn't yet learned how to temper her brusque way of handling that information overload. For a house like Gryffindor were the students were historically brash and reckless and favored quidditch over academic excellence, it was a bad place to be without friends.

"It could've been worse," Goyle pointed out. "She could've been sorted into Ravenclaw."

Harry flinched and Corner let out a chuckle. "The eagle den would've drove her mad within the first week. 'What do you mean you didn't do your homework?' 'Why aren't you studying for a class you're actually taking?' 'Why do you need to know why a raven is like a writing desk?'"

"Michael," shouted Turpin as she hit him with her bag, "That's rude and you know it! We're not all like you and Boot!"

The golden-haired boy shrugged looking complete unapologetic. Harry couldn't help but agree with him. From what he knew about Hermione Granger, she would've found herself ostracized just as heavily in that house if not more. Ravenclaws, even the most literal and up-tight ones, grew curious and loved to experiment no matter what exam was coming up or what paper's due. There were always a couple of ravenclaws that didn't hand in a homework assignment on time and during the charm exam last week at least three had looked like they had exorcised their souls and only their own respect for their head of house (or fear of whatever constituted ad Flitwick's punishments) had made them come to class that day.

Harry would have been impressed if he wasn't so terrified of getting dragged into a scholarly conversation with them. He had made the mistake of helping Kevin Entwhistle with something in Defense Against the Dark Arts and had ended up mobbed by four others by the end of the class period about standardized wards of all things. Crabbe had to bulldoze his way into the gaggle of eagles to save him. It made him curious about his own housemates- he had heard rumors that fifth and seventh year students tended to camp out in the common room all night during exam times. He imagined that the image-obsessed Slytherins would make it a tad harder to recognize they were working on empty.

He looked back down the hall where Granger had disappeared. They weren't friends. Harry had learned his lesson that first week that Slytherins didn't make friends. They made associates, pawns, and allies. (A rather dark way of looking at the world, but it was his father's house and Harry had to learn.) He wasn't sure which one she would count as. "I wonder if she'll be okay?"

Malfoy sneered. Crabbe shook his head. "There you go again worrying about things that you have no business doing."

Harry thought it was ironic that Malfoy of all people would say that when he made it his purpose to be in the middle of everyone else's business. A quick look from Crabbe silenced him.

He had been taking 'Slytherin Lessons' for lack of a better term from the Crabbe heir the last two weeks. While he still unapologetically called Harry a walking trainwreck ("It's so bad, but I can't possibly look away lest I miss it get any worse") he did seem to be of the belief that he was a redeemable trainwreck. He hadn't initiated the help of anymore of Harry's not-friends from Slytherins (mainly Malfoy and Goyle) which was a relief (again, Malfoy). Harry had gotten used to the silent communication that Crabbe and Goyle seemed to prefer to the hidden minefields that the other boys used.

This particular stare was something akin to 'If you dare open that ruddy mouth of yours I'll send a stinging hex hurtling at you so hard you'll have a bruise as big as Malfoy's ego covering your arse'.

Safe to say Harry kept his opinions to himself.

"That's because Potter's a nice guy," Patil said.

Turpin snorted but didn't comment either way as she continued into the classroom. Corner sent him a smile that was all teeth and winked once with his dark blue gaze and followed the other two ravenclaws into the charms classroom. "That," Crabbe informed him, "Was not a point in your favor."

Harry scowled. "I know that. It's not like I go out of my way to be nice to anyone. I'm just not an arsehole to our classmates."

Crabbe sighed. "Neither am I, but you won't hear one of them call me nice."

Harry wanted to snap back that was because he still acted like Malfoy's goon most days, but restrained himself. He knew from the boy's arched eyebrow that he hadn't been able to successfully maintain a mask at any point throughout their entire conversation and he would be reprimanded for it. Instead of focusing on what was sure to be yet another discussion about pureblood etiquette, his mind wandered to Granger and her rather dramatic run through the corridors while crying. Harry tried to think but couldn't find much of anything that could make him that distressed. Words were just words at the end of the day and once given a few minutes to accept Crabbe's words from last month Harry had ultimately moved on. Harry thought it was much worse to think one had friends and to be told otherwise than to know one doesn't have any friends and have it confirmed further. But then again, he was also part-monster and Hermione Granger was a hundred percent human. And a girl. That probably had a lot to do with it.

By the time dinner came around Harry had heard from Zabini that Granger had locked herself in the girl's bathroom on the first floor and hadn't come out all afternoon. Harry was trying to figure out whether he should tell a professor or not. At the very least Professor McGonagall would have a house meeting about what constituted as house loyalty for Gryffindors.

He got a little side-tracked when Professor Quirrell came running into the Great Hall screaming about a troll loose in the dungeons.

And of course the headmaster sends everyone back to their common rooms. Because that makes perfect sense. "Wait, wait!" Harry tried to shout over the din of the quickly evacuating students.

He looked around frantically for Professor Snape. The Slytherin common room was in the dungeons! And besides what type of idiot sent students out into the school when there was a troll out and about? It was better to keep everyone within the Great Hall whilst some of the staff went to hunt for the bloody thing. But Professor Snape had disappeared from the head table and the mass of bodies pushed Harry further towards the door and into the corridor. It wasn't until he caught sight of the Gryffindors that he remembered another thing. Hermione hadn't come to the feast.

"Potter!" Crabbe shouted after him.

He didn't know when his feet started moving because he sure didn't make the decision to go after the idiots. Harry wasn't sure why Crabbe was chasing after him either because if anyone had some common sense out of all of his not-friends in Slytherin it was him. But they both ended up tearing down the second floor corridor just in time to hear a scream.

When they turned the corner in a flurry of robes it was to see Weasley and another Gryffindor boy tugging on a chained door. A crash echoed down the corridor and another scream. "Granger!" Harry shouted as he went straight for the now open doorway.

"Merlin and Morgana Potter isn't the troll in there?" Crabbe shouted.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what he expected to do to help. A fourth first year wasn't going to do anything the first three couldn't. But he had to, right? Even if they weren't friends, he couldn't imagine being wrong for wanting to help someone in trouble. When he came into the room the bathroom stalls were nothing more than timber, water was spewing out onto the floor, and the Gryffindors were about to be side-swiped by the troll's club. "Duck!" Harry screamed.

For all Slytherins talked about Gryffindors, there was something to be said about their quick reflexes. The two boys hit the ground like their lives depended on it. Considering the massive club that swung above their heads only a moment later, it probably had. Next to him Crabbe had out his wand but they both knew that nothing offensive they could hope to come up with would work. Trolls had skin almost as thick as dragonhide and required a strong adult at the very least to even stun it. Neither Crabbe nor he were adult wizards.

As all of this went through Harry's head the troll had reared its arm back and was going for another swipe down at the floor where the Gryffindor boys were still trying to get on their feet with little success. Harry flung out his magic and forced it through his wand. It felt something like trying to stuff a dripping faucet with an entire bedsheet and met with similar success. The was very little finesse to be had, but the bright sparks that erupted on the troll's face got his attention. "Harry, move!" Crabbe shouted and pushed him out of the way.

While he's sure his housemate meant well, the force at which he pushed Harry had him barreling at the stone wall and colliding with it in such a fashion that he was sure to have more than a few bruises the next day. A large boom echoed from behind him and the floor shook. When Harry turned back it was to see the club to the side of Vince who had fallen back on his butt beside the corridor. A quick glance showed that the two Gryffindors- who he now recognized as Weasley and Finnigan of all people- were tugging on each other's robes and waving their hands in frantic communication.

Hermione was still huddled in the far corner amongst the wreckage of sinks. Harry took out his own wand and tried to think through the pounding in his head. He knew a cutting charm, a stinging hex, a dancing jinx, a light charm, and maybe the unlocking one, but not much else. Disillusionment and silencing charms wouldn't be much help right now and those he only knew thanks to Crabbe. Obviously alohamora and lumos were completely useless at the present moment and without some extra oomph diffindo and pungo weren't much better. And a dancing jinx was just completely... huh. "TARANTALLEGRA!" Harry shouted.

A burst of fiery orange light shot out of his wand and splashed against the troll's arm. For a second it didn't look like anything would happen, but then it began doing a sort of... jig, maybe? The troll hopped, skipped and tripped over a puddle of water and in a fashion befitting a Saturday morning cartoon threw its club in the air and promptly knocked itself out when the large piece of wood came down right on its head.

Harry stood gaping at the entire thing, his wand still pointed out. "I can't believe that worked," he whispered.

"Neither can I," Crabbe groaned from the floor as he got up. "What in Morgana's name were you thinking going after the sodding troll by yourself?"

"Well I wasn't. Granger hadn't been at dinner than I saw these two," Harry motioned to Weasley and Finnigan who were passing incredulous gazes between each other, "run off from the crowd."

Crabbe gave him the same exasperated gaze he was prone to when Harry did something especially unSlytherin-like. He shot his housemate a sheepish grin, but turned back to the trio of Gryffindors. "You two are lucky that troll didn't kill her," he pointed out.

He had seen the two boys untying some chains from around the door and assumed that it was them that had locked the troll in the girl's bathroom to begin with. Weasley's face flushed red. "We were here so it wouldn't. And it would have worked out perfectly well if you slimy snakes hadn't come around. Now look what you've done."

Harry gaped at the red-head. "What I've done? I've saved you three- you're welcome by the way!"

"Well no one asked you to," barked Finnigan, "So you can just get along now."

Hermione had finally begun to uncurl herself from out of the corner by the broken sinks and was staring at the four boys in the girls lavatory with complete shock. Harry felt much of the same way, but for a very different reason. What was with these Gryffindors? He had saved them from a bloody mountain troll and they still thought he was evil (which he was, but he doubted they knew about his heritage).

"Harry. Professor Snape."

Harry turned to Crabbe, but then heard the sound of footsteps. If their head of house found them here there would be hell to pay. With an ease that was coached into him by several sessions with Crabbe, Harry cast a disillusionment charm and then a notice-me-not just in case. And not a moment too soon.

Just as Weasley turned red and started to shout at the spot where they disappeared Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell appeared in the doorway.

"Oh!" the Transfiguration mistress gasped upon seeing the mountain troll and again upon the state of the bathroom. "You three, explain yourselves at once!"

Harry quickly slipped out of the door and down the corridor towards the dungeons. It wasn't until he passed the last portrait leading into the Slytherin's territory that he released the illusions and waited for Crabbe. He was only a few seconds behind him.

"Circe, Harry," Crabbe- or maybe he was Vincent now- swore, "You certainly know how to keep a bloke on his toes."

Harry smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "We best be getting back to the common room before Professor Snape returns or else we'll be in serious trouble."

* * *

**A/N: I initially had this story outlined for thirty chapters. And that was with added space for fourteen through sixteen and then twenty-three to twenty-five where I didn't have a plan for what was supposed to happen, but I knew there was going to be some more plot to help round out the story. Now that was the plan, but this chapter four was initially part of chapter two if you could believe it. Right now I have written straight through up til chapter ten which is annoyingly enough when Tom is finally introduced (when before he showed up in chapter six).**

**So we might be looking at thirty-five, forty chapters by the time everything is all said and done with. A bit longer than I was expecting, but I hope to just get this story out of my head and crossed off my list. I'll let you know on any updates within the story itself. This will be the last small chapter for a while as they've gotten longer and longer for the next six or so updates. Mostly because Harry is getting older and will become more involved in the world around him. (Chapter eight was massive once it was done and then chapter nine wasn't even fully plotted before it had twenty pages of ideas and plans.)**

**Also, it has come to my attention that for some reason on the mobile app the story is listed as a Drarry fanfic. I do adore that pairing and much of my writing in this fandom tends to result in Harry and Draco together, but this is not the case here as you will have noticed if you looked at the warnings section in the first chapter. Just a heads up to anyone who might have clicked on this story because of that. I've already tried removing the listed characters and adding them again but it seems to make no difference at all. Sorry about the confusion.**

**À la prochaine~**


	5. Chapter 5

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"Harry! Can I have a word?"

Both Vincent and Malfoy sent looks of disapproval at him. Harry let out a world heavy sigh and turned to look at Granger as she hurried up the corridor. "Call me Potter," he corrected her.

The girls' steps faltered at the rebuke, but otherwise showed no other sign that she was surprised. "Of course. Potter. I need to talk with you."

She pointedly looked behind him at the two other Slytherin boys. Goyle had been in the hospital wing after having an allergic reaction to a plant in herbology and they were going to visit him. Harry wasn't sure why Malfoy had agreed to accompany them, but had kept the peace when the blond hadn't branched off upon reaching the main staircase leading to the dungeons. It was only because the hospital was located in the clock tower that they were even close to the Gryffindor common room to begin with. "Alone."

Malfoy sneered and was ready to whip out his sparkling wit and sharp tongue, but Harry was faster. "You two can go along and see if Madam Pomphrey is going to release him for Transfiguration. I'll catch up."

Vince's own pointed gaze was a clear communication on what he had to say about the situation but he continued on without voicing them. Malfoy wasn't so considerate. "Careful Potter. Someone might think you two are friends." He sneered the last word to put the disdainful emphasis most Slytherins had on the concept of friendship.

Harry rolled his eyes after the two heirs. Draco Malfoy was a right menace when he put his mind to it, which was unfortunately frequently. "Ignore him," Harry said as he turned back to Granger who had her own scowl of disapproval.

"Oh I intend to," she sniffed. "It's not like he ever says much of note anyway."

'Oh goody,' he thought to himself. 'They've developed a feud already.'

"Draco is smart enough and is the best in potions right now. He is a wealth of knowledge that not even all born into the wizarding world are privy to. It's best you not voice your opinions about him too loudly less he takes offense and seriously considers you antagonistic to the house of Malfoy. He is its heir."

Granger rolled her eyes, but did give a sharp nod of acknowledgement. "Fine. But that doesn't mean I'm going to like him."

Harry shrugged. He still didn't very much like Malfoy himself but the blond had mellowed out a bit since the school year had started. It was already Wednesday and Harry had only heard 'My father says...' twice that week. It was a vast improvement from the twice an hour interval he had used during the first two months of school. "I didn't say you had to. You, on the other hand, said you wanted to talk. If it's about the troll incident I've already been harangued by Vince and Weasley on separate occasions. You don't have to worry about me collecting on the life debt and I'm definitely not inclined to aid you unasked again. It's all in our best interests that we forget about-"

"Ron and Seamus are just idiots. I told them they should apologize for yelling at you. "

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Ron, is it? I didn't know you three were so close."

She huffed again, but a noticeable blush dusted across her cheeks. Harry thought it was good that she finally had friends even if it was with Ron Weasley. That probably meant that she was going to align herself with the Light and having an example like the Weasley family around wasn't going to make her a potential ally if Malfoy was to be believed. (And although he was skeptical of most things the blond said, when it came to the political affiliations of families, he tended to know what he was talking about.) "If that's everything then Granger," Harry turned to follow his friends, but as it turned out that wasn't everything.

"It's not about the troll. It's about Professor Snape. I think he's up to something."

Harry frowned and shot an exasperated glare over his shoulder. "If I don't talk ill about your head of house why should you talk ill of mine? Besides he's not a bad guy. Just a little grumpy."

"No. Har-Potter," she corrected when his glare increased in severity, "He had left first when the troll had been announced in the dungeons. Don't you think that was odd?"

"He probably didn't accept that anyone else would be able to handle the creature. Quirrell was useless, as you saw."

"But then his leg was bleeding that night. I saw it after you and that other Slytherin boy left.."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned away again. This was ridiculous. "He might've cut his leg on all the trash in the bathroom. There was glass, rocks, and timber everywhere. I'm sure it was-"

"There's a three-headed dog guarding a trap door in the out-of-bounds corridor."

At this Harry turned back around to stare aghast at Granger. "You went down there? You?!"

"Of course I didn't do it intentionally," Hermione scoffed. "Me and Neville accidentally- you know what, it doesn't matter. The point is that your Head of House was trying to sneak past it and got attacked for his trouble!"

Harry blinked. Then scowled. He knew the Gryffindors didn't like Professor Snape. They had a good reason because the man was a right menace during potions class, but still. "I would have expected this from Weasley. It was my mistake to assume you were more sensible than him."

"I'm trying to warn you I think he's up to no good! Think about it Potter, why would a Hogwarts Professor need to get into an out-of-bounds corridor being guarded by a monster like that? Wouldn't he already know what's down there? What's guarding it?"

"So you think he's a thief, do you?"

"I think he's hiding something. He is the Head of Slytherin house, Harry. They're known for their duplicitous nature."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth. Hermione flushed, but raised her chin. She wasn't going to take any of it back. "Best for you to be off Miss Granger. Wouldn't want you to become tainted by my dastardly Slytherin ways."

Harry turned away, not looking back even as Granger let out a shout of anger and stomped her feet as she stormed away. 'How childish,' he thought as he too left the corridor, but at a more controlled pace. 'If anyone should feel upset it should be me.' Harry knew that Professor Snape wasn't very nice to Gryffindors, but the bloody Headmaster had a bias against Slytherins so really only Slytherins had the right to feel picked on. Not to mention how every other house operated under the belief that only 'evil' people were sorted into the snake pit.

He rattled off the list of the sacred twenty-eight houses and number of Wizengamot seats of each family (the sacred twenty-eight held half of the total number of seats amongst their numbers) to calm himself down. Vince said it was best to recite things at a measured, steady pace to keep control of one's emotions. He said he liked to recite the seventeen curses and counter-curses listed from Jinxes for the Jinxed- a Defense text he had read once.

Harry's mood wasn't improved in the slightest to see Zabini sitting on a cot only two beds away from where Goyle was being harangued by Madame Pomphrey. "Potter," he greeted.

Truthfully it was Malfoy who had a bone to pick with the Italian wizard, but with the weird gray area Harry found himself in when it came to the Malfoy heir, he was almost expected to take the blond's side. Didn't mean he couldn't be polite. "Hey Zabini. I haven't seen you since potions class."

"Oh yes, well, my mother's husband died you see and I was pulled out of class to await her floo. I'll probably be at home for the rest of the week."

"Merlin," Harry breathed, scolding himself for casually asking a potentially painful question. He felt a bit bad for being upset that the boy was in the hospital wing, especially now that he knew that Zabini had a much more legitimate reason than Harry to be visiting. "I'm sor-"

"Seriously Potter. You think I would tell you if I was all torn up inside? This marks my mother's fifth husband and I wouldn't be surprised if she's married again by my OWL year. I didn't much like him anyway. Was glad to go away to Hogwarts and get rid of his father-son bonding attempts'."

All of the air deflated out of Harry at the boy's laissez-faire attitude. What was he supposed to say to that exactly? He was saved from committing a social faux pas by Malfoy, Vince, and Goyle walking up. "Madam Pomphrey released me as long as I spend the rest of the free period relaxing, but I'm not to go to Astronomy tonight." Goyle grinned.

Harry pouted. "I have a right mind to pretend I'm sick too. I hate Astronomy."

"What's wrong with you?" Malfoy zeroed in on Zabini's presence with a look of suspicion and completely bypassed any of the appropriate pleasantries.

Harry found himself wondering not for the first time how Draco Malfoy could possibly have been raised by a daughter of the House of Black.

Zabini shrugged and held out his hands in a 'What can you do?' motion. Malfoy would have pressed the point if the matron hadn't come bustling up that moment and shooed the four of them out. This didn't save Harry from being under Malfoy's analyzing gaze on their way to the library. "Tell me what you and Zabini were talking about," he demanded.

Harry couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the presumptions boy. "Malfoy you seem to be under the impression that I listen to you."

"I'm heir, of course you do."

Harry's smile was too sharp around the edges to be anything remotely pleasant. It had the blond prat backing up a step. "No. You're the heir of the Malfoy house. You're not Heir Malfoy. I, on the other hand, am Heir Potter among other things. Trust me when I say this: I will never follow your command."

He caught the fleeting sight of a smile on Vince's face and knew he hadn't overstepped. It was always a tight rope with influential families like Malfoy's, especially with him being the only scion of the main house. But when he tried to flaunt a status he did not have it was expected that Harry corrected him tuit-de-suite less he be seen as submitting to his authority.

Malfoy sniffed but tilted his head slightly in a show of submission. It was hardly distinguishable from a casual tilt of the head to most, but any pureblood who had learned the nonverbal cues of the old families- the same nonverbal communication that Vince had been teaching him for the past two months- would take it for what it was. A victory for Harry. It would be a point for Harry in the tangle of knots that was the Slytherin hierarchy. He hadn't yet made any attempts to interact with the carefully worded power plays that other Slytherins performed, but had noticed Malfoy and Nott both taking steps to improve their own standing. One's name could only get one so far. For instance Malfoy's only made him the highest ranked of the first years and automatically above some of the smaller pureblood lines of second year. It had been Malfoy's own words and actions that ranked him among the third years in Slytherins hierarchy. With Harry now having placed himself in a place of power against the blond he would now have to play to gain the same against those ranked around him. Which meant he would need to start speaking with third years.

All of this to gain more power and play more games. All of this for his father.

Malfoy was a sight more tolerable for the next few weeks and didn't even make a snide comment when Harry spent Saturday afternoons down at Hagrid's. It became obvious when he returned to the common room one evening before the Yuletide holiday break that he wasn't the only one to notice the shift in the hierarchy.

"Mister Potter would you care to join me?"

The conversation that he had been having with Vince and Nott cut off abruptly at the interruption. Harry recognized the girl who had called out to him almost immediately. Daphne Greengrass. Third Year. She was the top ranking third year and her authority went well up into the fifth years. If there was a Queen of Slytherin to be found it would be the Greengrass Heiress.

She had been named Heir apparent of her household at eleven and that meant something considerable to anyone who cared to pay attention. "Of course Miss Greengrass," he followed her lead in formal address.

No titles, yet a public greeting all the same. Was this his first alliance?

Up close Daphne Greengrass looked like a fairytale princess. Her hair was more golden than yellow and was pinned back in perfect coifs on the top then allowed to spill across her right shoulder. Her blue eyes were deep and mesmerizing, reminding Harry of the depths of the ocean if he were to ever see it. Her face was classically handsome in a way that was only ever depicted in storybooks with a small button nose and a heart-shaped face. Her skin wasn't the alabaster pale of the Malfoy family, but more like warm cream. In short, Daphne Greengrass was mesmerizing in every way imaginable. And she smelled like flowers! "I'm sorry it has taken so long for us to meet," she continued after raising a privacy ward around them. "My courses have taken up most of my time this term."

So it was an alliance proposal? That was a relief. Daphne Greengrass was a considerable leap higher in the hierarchy and to take on her without blackmail of some sort or an ally of similar or higher status than her own would have been akin to political suicide. Harry had taken Vince's lessons on the social ladder very seriously. The higher he was on it personally, the more pull he would be able to exert when it came time to aid his father. "I appreciated the time to gather my bearings at the castle. But now I am looking forward to getting to know my classmates. You, most of all."

"Oh?"

Harry nodded. He needed to start becoming more active in the hierarchy and in his search for his father. And it couldn't hurt to get some early recruitments lined up to join his father's army when they graduated. "Anyone versed in the Dark Arts would be an asset to my family."

Daphne's deep blue eyes widened and she let out chuckles that sounded like wind chimes. "You think I'm versed in the Dark Arts? Where'd you get a silly idea like that?"

Harry frowned. "Magic is passed through the bloodline. Your father is a Dark wizard and so is your mother."

Daphne froze on the chaise across from him, but revealed nothing. Her laughter had ceased as abruptly as it had bubbled out of her. If anything the heiress' stillness revealed more about her thoughts than any words she would ever voice aloud. Finally when Harry was sure she had forgotten she spoke again. "You should keep such words to yourself, Harry. There are ears everywhere and a puppet master hides amongst the children."

Her words only confused him more. He noted with displeasure that her face had relaxed into a smooth mask. It was one reserved for dinner parties and family gatherings, Vince had said. In other words, everything unpleasant and dangerous that a youth of a notable family would have to experience growing up. "A puppet master? Do you mean Dumbledore? I already know he's dangerous. My runic necklace burns every mealtime."

Daphne's sharp gaze snapped to his chest where the necklace in question could be seen peeking out from under his robe. "Helena's work, I'm sure. Someone's been keeping secrets."

Harry's frown deepened. He somehow felt that nothing was going to plan and that he might've gotten Prefect Dodderidge into a spot of trouble. "It was very considerate of her. I owe her a debt. There are things that I cannot have the Headmaster know I am aware of and the war would have been lost the first day of classes if it wasn't for her assistance. Do not be cross with her."

Daphne's classic beauty made her stare a foreboding thing to be on the other end of. Harry knew he had made a mistake, but he couldn't figure out where. Perhaps it was forward of him to announce his interest in an allegiance based off her magical aura, but no one seemed to bother by hiding it. Even amongst Slytherin it was rare to see anyone who bothered keeping their magic under lock and key. Only the Headmaster, Professor Snape, and Professor Quirrell even bothered with it. All anyone's magical aura really told someone was what type of spells their magic was predisposed to. Harry's own was gray!

"A debt. Have you told her this?"

Harry shook his head hurriedly. "No, but I will post-haste!"

He jumped to his feet to do just that- and remove himself from this disaster of an introduction- when he was stopped by a tug on his robes that almost had him falling back into his own chair. Miss Greengrass had used a sticking charm on his robes!

"I didn't say you had to leave, calm down. I just have a decision to make that I hadn't expected. But now I see what the rumors are all about. You are full of surprises, aren't you Mister Potter? I would be pleased if I could uncover more in the future."

Harry was completely confused. He had apparently broken some pureblood etiquette rule that Vince hadn't told him about when he spoke of her aura (maybe? He'd have to ask later for verification), then she all but forced him to stay sitting with her in the common room (with a ruddy sticking charm!), and now she was offering him an alliance? One of those things were not like the other and it was the last two that made no sense in or out of context.

"I don't understand. You want to ally yourself with me?"

The smile she gave him made her look like she was cooing at an especially cute puppy. He thought he was the puppy in that particular metaphor. "No, mon petit chou. I am offering to teach you."

"But Vince is already teaching me. I've learned a lot already this term."

Daphne's smile seemed a touch self-indulgent and did nothing to banish the belief that she saw him as a puppy from Harry's mind. And what on heck was a 'petty choo'? "I'm sure Vincent Crabbe does his best, but there are some things that only a woman can teach you."

Harry doesn't know why that sentence made him blush, but he thought it had something to do with the implications in that one sentence. He was eleven not fifteen! He made a note to ask Vince about pureblood courting rituals. Maybe he was being asked into a courtship and he didn't know the proper way of declining yet.

"Lady Greengrass, if that is all I have a few essays I should be starting."

Her smile was innocent enough, but the way her gaze rested upon him somehow indicated that he was only escaping her clutches because she allowed him to. "Of course. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for us to discuss things further at a later time."

Harry rose as she did and bowed over her outstretched hand. "Until next time, Mister Potter."

Harry nodded once more than walked hurriedly towards the boys common room where he would be safe from the girls of his house. Upon entering the room he's immediately sat upon by Draco Malfoy. "What were you doing talking to Queenie?"

"Who?" Harry frowned as he sidestepped the huffy blond.

"Daphne Greengrass." One could hear the exasperation in Draco's voice as he followed Harry to his desk. "Crabbe said you were called aside as soon as you got in. What did she want? Why was she talking to you? What did you do to get her attention anyway? How come-"

"Merlin and Morgana Malfoy," Harry whined as he dropped his bag down heavily on his desk, probably knocking around his ink. "If I knew the answer to that I would tell you."

Malfoy harumphed and lifted his chin like he was prone to. "Well it's odd that Queenie would talk to you of all people."

"Why?" Nott, who had been sitting quietly on his bed with Goyle going over a star chart, asked. "Because she's better than him?"

Harry scowled at the other blond. While he didn't have any problems with Zabini, he did not have any fond feelings for Theodore Nott as of yet and everytime the boy opened his mouth he just added more reasons to not particularly like him. "It's because Harry's status amongst the hierarchy is so muddled," Vince answered instead. "He has garnered a relatively high standing by his name and feats alone, but has only just recently begun participating in the discussions."

"And she doesn't do alliances of any sorts," Draco added. "Even with me. Which means that she wanted something else from Boy Wonder here. And the fact that she would call him out in the middle of the common room means she's staking a claim. Queenie's up to something."

"She said she wanted to teach me things."

Everyone else stared at Harry in wide eyed astonishment. "What?" Harry whined.

"She wants to claim you as a student? Really? WHY?!" Draco shouted.

Harry shrugged. He didn't know as much about the rules that regulated the purebloods interactions with one another as he pretended to and knew it was a fool's dream to imagine a few months talking with Vince was going to remedy that. "Why do you keep calling her Queenie?" Harry asked in hopes of changing topics.

It took Draco a few notable seconds to stop obsessing over whatever new social faux pas Harry had committed. He waved a hand in the air as if clearing away cobwebs and said, "Her younger sister is my betrothed. She told me to call her Queenie after we started courting proceedings during Samhain."

"So it's official then?" Nott looked impressed.

Harry thought there were more important questions to be asked. "You're engaged?"

Draco shrugged. "Most pureblood families set up some sort of betrothal contract for their first born. I'm sure your parents-ow"

Goyle looked theatrically apologetic as he held his hands up. "Sorry Malfoy," he said in a parody of guilt, "I missed Greg."

By Nott's snicker, no one really believed him. Before it could devolve into a hexing match- of which Harry knew Vince would win if only because he knew more hexes than the rest of them- Harry and Goyle convinced the others that their potions essay was of utmost importance. (This wasn't very far from the truth as everyone knew that Professor Snape was by far the strictest teacher when it came to theoretical knowledge of his subject.)

They got through the rest of the week without anyone else bringing up Daphne Greengrass and Harry had begun to think he had managed to avoid a troublesome situation just when she started her nefarious plan. The first time was at a Saturday breakfast so Harry was completely caught off guard. She had called him to sit beside her and introduced him to several other third years and a few fourth years. Even in his sleep-addled brain he was aware that they were rather important people.

Daphne called him to attend her several times in the following weeks (Helena would sometimes act as a buffer from more of the more touchy girls, but for the most part allowed him to suffer the notice of so many giggling girls by himself). Zabini had mockingly called Harry Daphne's puppy. Malfoy had hexed him for the insult but Harry found that he agreed with him, at least on that front.

He was relieved to be one of the few Slytherins to remain behind for Yule hols. Sure Zabini was there as well (a fact that Draco laughed at for more than was proper) and there were two fifth years who were studying for their OWLS, but one of four students left in the dungeons gave Harry the peace he had taken for granted those few times he was locked away in his cupboard.

He had owl ordered all of the gifts he was to give to his classmates and had sent Hedwig out with each one in the week leading up to Yule as per tradition. Daphne and Vince would receive their gifts on the first day to signify their importance to him, but Draco would be given the next day lest Harry offend his delicate sensibilities. He almost wished he could have just had all of them delivered at once, but Daphne had actually scowled when he had suggested having a few of the school owls carry them. Apparently it was rude to do something so impersonal.

When the morning of the fourth day of Yule he awoke to a pile of presents. Harry had already been warned by Vince that the school elves kept all Yule gifts for the first few days until Christmas arrived since the pagan traditions were practiced by a scarce minority, but he was still surprised by the actual presents. He had never gotten Christmas presents before, not really. Most years the Dursleys gave him a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks or some of Dudley's old clothes. This year they had sent a pence and the expected pair of socks. Harry kept the money, but set the holey socks aside to be thrown away.

The next parcel had a note attached. 'Your father left this in my care years ago. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.'

The script had the complex swirls and flambouncy that was common in a charmed script. Whoever had sent the package had not wanted to be identified by their handwriting. Harry felt a tad bit flattered that this mysterious person thought it was necessary to go to such lengths to maintain their anonymity. All the same, it was best to not underestimate who the gift was from and what the gift was. His father was the Dark Lord after all. It might be cursed.

Harry levitated the package into his trunk and after removing a bunch of his extra books was able to place it at the bottom in the built in compartment. That particular section was meant for potions and alchemical ingredients and equipment. It wasn't warded, but there were several layers of strengthening and anti-flame and anti-corrosion runes etched on the top. It was to prevent any mishaps from within destroying everything else in his trunk. It should keep any potentially harmful spells that had been cast on the package from discharging and possibly decapitating him. Just to be sure Harry piled up his heaviest books around around the side compartment and then covered the whole thing with his dragon-hide gloves for herbology. The gloves were huge and went all the way up his arm and was loose to boot. It offered more than enough leather to fold across the top of the pile. Satisfied that he was as shielded as he was going to get from anything harmful in or on the package without the aid of an adult (or Vince), Harry turned to the rest of his Yuletide gifts. He hadn't been surprised by some but then had been surprised by others. Like he had started to accept that for whatever reason he and Draco Malfoy seemed to be allies of a fashion. Not the way that Vince and Harry were, but some facet therin. Harry had taken their developing relationship into consideration when he was ordering Yule gifts and had purchased for the boy an alchemy set. Not that they taught the class to anyone below fifth year, but Draco was well on his way to achieving Adept status in potion making and would find no problems with performing some of the beginning transmutations. The signed first edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that Draco had sent him in return was incredibly insightful of the blond. Harry supposed he had better start calling him by his first name aloud if they were at this point in their alliance.

Goyle predictably got him sweets of various types that was appreciated all the same. Vince had sent him a large rolled-up parchment with a note attached describing how to use a blood ritual ("... a perfectly legal and minor blood magic spell that isn't prohibited by the Ministry but is considered to be Dark Magic and should be cast away from the Slytherin common room..."). The spell would trace back his family tree for as many generations as his blood could transcribe. The more blood he gave the farther back the tree would go. Harry made a note to use it sometime before the start of the next term and to get Vince a proper thank you when he returned.

Daphne had sent him two gifts. Both were potion sets. Upon reading what both did he wasn't sure whether he was to thank her or find a way to politely return the gifts. The first was a series of potions to be taken over the span of a month in three day increments to eventually correct his vision. ("I appropriated your glasses one afternoon to evaluate what strength of potions you would need and I'm afraid your eyesight really is rather horrid. So I got you the extended set just to be sure that there are no chances of reversion.") The second was a hair-care routine- ("-to tame that bird's nest on top of your head. No self-respecting Heir should allow themselves to go so long without having properly brushed hair"). There was a cleansing salve and then a moisturizing tonic... So shampoo and conditioner he assumed. The third one was some sort of cream that was supposed to make his hair soft and tangle-free after washing.

Harry understood that Daphne was doing what she wanted as his upperclassman sponsor the same as Vince being his year sponsor. For one reason or another the both of them were intent on helping him reach a position of power within Slytherin politics, but neither offered a straight-forward answer as to why when asked. Vince hadn't made any further comments after that 'change the world' speech he had pulled in September. Harry just wished that he understood. He could learn how to walk, talk, act, and dress like one of the peerage all he wanted, but he was still an outsider. Some ideas and concepts that came to them naturally were completely foreign to him.

Harry placed both gifts back in their parcels and set them aside. He'd have to do something about them eventually, but he could probably get away with not using it for the time being. He shuddered to think what Daphne would say when he tried to get out of using the potions. He would fail, but his honor as a monster required him to at least try and get out of what was probably the wizarding equivalent of a pampering toiletries basket.

Harry shuddered. Women were terrifying.

* * *

**A/N: This took me a bit longer to write than the first four chapters, but that is mostly because it is a lot of filler. It's a little north of five thousand words making it longer than the last two updates but still smaller than chapter two. The next update will see a lot more of the philosopher's stone mystery and the conclusion to first year. I know we haven't heard anything substantial about Voldemort up til this point (and you'll have to wait even longer for his official appearance despite the philosopher's stone debacle) but once he does show up, he pretty much drives forward all of Harry's choices from that point forward. It gets a tad out of hand but more's the fun I think. I've just finished writing second year and most of the following summer so third year is in the works where we will see Harry come into his magical ability more. Up til that point his magical studies have been mostly passive in nature (like occulmency or his constant research into the theory of a topic he finds interesting). That changes in his third year and he becomes extremely focused on improving but also extremely reckless in his pursuit of mastering his power. In my mind this is a canon Harry Potter trait, his ability to obsess to the point of losing all reason. I think of this as ruthlessness- he sees his goal (often information or knowledge of some sort) and takes the most direct way there with unwavering focus. Probably why he was always involved in whatever nonsense was going on at school in the series. I have lots of thoughts about Harry as a character honestly. He is fun to write with.**

**Also! Before I forget, I would like to give a shout out to all of the lovely reviews I have been given. They mean so much to me and each one makes me smile in happiness.**

**À la prochaine~  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

Chapter Six

There were two people reflected in the mirror that shouldn't be there. Harry had already cast a sensory charm that should detect basic illusions and eavesdropping spells (even if it couldn't banish them) but nothing happened. He doubted anyone would go through the trouble of casting a higher level disillusionment just to follow him around during Yule hols. There would be nothing to gain and furthermore it would be a little pathetic to go through such lengths just to stalk an eleven year old through an empty castle.

But that meant that the images were locked within the mirror itself, which wasn't very unrealistic honestly. He had heard the story about the magic mirror in Snow White. Magic mirrors weren't exactly the strangest thing he's seen since coming to Hogwarts. The staircases moved for Morgana's sake! He's seen more than a few students almost fall off the things.

He frowned at the mirror as he edged further away from it. Harry really wasn't even supposed to be here. The library had closed and curfew was within half an hour. Admittedly curfew was pushed back an hour later than it was during normal school days, but there was so much for him to catch up on that he spent a great deal of time researching. There was much to learn now that he wasn't bogged down with endless scrolls of homework. But it had been on his way to bed that he had caught sight of Professor Quirrel patrolling the corridor and immediately took another route. It wasn't that Harry was afraid of him. No proper monster would fear such a person. But he felt uneasy that the man was always trying to look into Harry's mind during class periods and didn't want to give the professor any more time to access his secrets than absolutely necessary. He had gotten the feeling he had been followed though and ended up taking a more circuitous route than he would have otherwise. Which is how Harry had ended up in this empty room with a magic mirror in it.

Nothing bad had happened yet so he figured it was probably safe to look at it. He cold ask Vince if he knew what it did in a letter. The two robed figures were still there. "Who are you?"

The shorter of the two knelt down on the ground and tilted their head up. It wasn't enough to see the face the hood kept in shadows, but it was enough to show that it was a woman. A woman with verdant green eyes.

Harry sucked in a harsh breath and bolted for the mirror so fast he feared for a moment that the force of him slamming into it would have it toppling over. The mirror didn't so much as rock. "Mum? Mum is that you?"

An upwards curve of the delicate mouth and a flash of white teeth. Her smile was pleasant and calming. There was a dimple in her left cheek like Harry's own smile. She had Harry's smile. It was his mother. And if this was her that would make the other robed figure- "Father! Father, it's me, it's Harry!"

Unlike the robed figure of his mother, his father's figure did not turn around. Did not face him. The questions that he had longed to ask Vince, Malfoy, and Goyle so long ago burned to the forefront of his mind and rushed out of his mouth like a torrent of water. "Do we have other family? Is it true you can speak to snakes? I can too! Do I look like you? Where are you now? I know you're not dead, Hagrid says you're not. Help me find you."

His mother's figure remained crouched. She placed her hand on his reflection's head, her fingers tangling in his curls tenderly. The lack of sensation on his end made Harry's questions choke off into a sudden sob.

He cried because Harry couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel his mother's hand and it wasn't fair. How could any of this be fair? He couldn't see his mother's face, not really. His father wouldn't even turn to look at him. Harry felt that if he could just get the Dark Lord to face him, to acknowledge him! He could show his father how worthy he was to be the son of a true monster. Harry was a monster too! "Please..." Harry whispered. "Please..."

The cloaked figure did not turn around. His mother smiled at him sadly, tears forming in her eyes as she looked from Harry to the cloaked figure he knew to be Lord Voldemort. "Mum, make him turn around. Make him listen. I'm going to save him mum. I'm going to save him!"

The reflection of the woman with his eyes turned to the cloaked figure. Her mouth moved as if she were speaking. No words reached Harry. Why would they? Neither of them were real. The cloaked figure still did not turn around.

"No!" Harry shouted in anger, in desperation, in grief.

Harry flung himself bodily away from the mirror and laid against the cold stones of the floor. The sobs that wracked his body felt like they were shaking the very foundations of the castle, but he knew that wasn't true. He choked on each breath, refused to let himself call out anymore than he already had. Refused to give the world the privilege of seeing him hurt once again.

Poor Monster Harry Potter who's monster father killed his mother and left him all alone.

Freaky Harry Potter who sensed magic and talked with snakes.

Stupid Harry Potter who's father's reflection wouldn't even look at him.

Orphan Harry Potter who didn't even know if the reflections he saw in the cursed mirror was truly what his parents looked like.

Sleeping on the cold stone floor with nothing more than a school robe for cover was stupid. Doing such a thing in the dead of a Scottish winter was the height of idiocy. By the time Harry had finally come to, he felt like both Dudley and that stupid mountain troll had taken turns walloping him in his sleep. Absolutely everything hurt and he felt an odd mix of too hot and frigidly cold in equal measure. He felt much too miserable to even glance at the mirror once more before making the trek back to the dungeon. The blades of sunlight that pierced into his skull at every window showed that it was probably well into the day and more than appropriate for Harry to be out and about. It was the simple idea of not having a bed to crash into at the end of this journey that he found completely unbearable. He'd just sleep off the worst of it then have some water and bread to mend the rest. It was how Aunt Petunia treated every illness he had ever gotten and it hadn't failed him yet. (Except that one time he had broken his arm falling out of a tree, but that didn't count.)

How he got into the common room was a bit of a mystery after all was said and done. Harry remembers he had run into one of the female ghosts because the feeling of cobwebs and ice shards that had spread across his skin had him almost hurling his last meal into a suit of armor, but everything else was a pleasant haze of unpleasantness. Next thing he knows he's being picked up off the couch and moved again. Harry would later be informed that Professor Snape had found him some undisclosed amount of time later and had carried him the entire way to the hospital wing in the clock tower. He also learned that there were some illnesses too severe to be treated by a quick potion or spell.

"What exactly were you doing that you ended up this sick Mister Potter?"

Harry mumbled something only for the breath to get caught in his throat and start a series of increasingly violent coughs. The coughing was something that Madame Pomphrey could do nothing about. Muggles had invented cough syrup, but apparently the magical equivalent was something of a muscle relaxant that did more to numb the entire body than simply the throat area. "Perhaps it would be prudent to heal the boy before you interrogate him Poppy."

Harry didn't quite hear what the mediwitch said in response, but figured the Professor had won that argument because the next thing he knew it was once again night time and the Professor sat in a chair next to him reading. He stared at the man for quite some time in silence. Harry hadn't wanted to tell Madame Pomphrey, but it was probably okay to tell his head of house. The man had never been cruel to him, although he wasn't exactly kind either. Truthfully, he treated Harry like an adult and maybe the other professors could take after such a thing. "There's a mirror in an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor."

Professor Snape glanced up from the book he had been perusing, but remained silent. His unobtrusive presence made Harry feel more comfortable with telling the man what had happened. It felt like Harry's choice whether to tell the man or not. He had had very few of them in his life. "It had funny writing on the top... in the reflection, I saw-I saw my mother..."

There wasn't any noticeable shift or a new sound, but Harry could feel the impact his confession had on the potions master. "But it wasn't really her," Harry informed him. "She wasn't really there. It's just a magic mirror."

Harry thought he had the right of things as far as that ruddy mirror was concerned. It was charmed to show Harry what he wanted most, his mother and father. But since Harry didn't know what they looked like and would never deign to imagine too grandly lest he comes up with a woman who looks similar to Aunt Petunia, the mirror had shown them cloaked. If Harry had imagined them growing up he would probably have had images of some sort, but he had no desire to imagine his dead parents while at the Dursleys. And he was too old now to carelessly fantasize about them.

"I am familiar with the mirror you speak of."

The Professor's voice broke Harry out of his inner musings enough to return to the present. Moonlight danced across the outline of the man. Severus Snape wasn't classically handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he was rather striking all the same. With poreless pale skin, and inky black hair, he looked like a vampire prince highlighted by the moon's beams.

It suited him.

"I will talk with the Headmaster about having it removed."

"No!" Harry lurched up out of the bed only to bend over coughing."P-pl-ee-ease... ple-ease don't..." he choked out between coughs.

Professor Snape waited for his coughing to get back under control before he spoke again. "That mirror is a web of lies Mister Pot-Harry. It shows you nothing more than what you want most dearly in the world. Not the future, not the past. Neither a truth nor a lie."

Harry shook his head in denial. He didn't care that it wasn't real. Of course it wasn't real! It was a magic mirror. "I've never seen my mother before. Neither of them. What if that was the only chance I will ever have to see her? What if I never know what my mother looks like?"

He forced the words out around the lump in his throat. If the Professor was going to have it moved, Harry needed to go see again. He needed to try to see her full face, if nothing else. He wouldn't imagine it, but maybe magic could recreate her the way she was. He would see his father eventually, but the woman who had given birth to him. She would remain clouded in shadows if he didn't- "I will show you."

Harry's head snapped up in surprise. "You?" he whispered incredulously. He had done enough research to recognize that his mother had not only been a Muggleborn, but also in Gryffindor house. She would be the antithesis to any Slytherin, especially those who might have attended school during his father's reign. "But no one remembers my mum. She was... she was just Lily."

Perhaps something he had said was of great importance to the potions master because his face almost softened around the edges. His scowl wasn't so deep and his gaze not so narrowed. Like a weight of tension had been lifted from the man. "Lily Evans was a star brought down from the heavens. The world lost something terribly precious the night she died."

Harry's gaze widened. A star? Was such a thing even real? Monsters and goblins and elves, sure. But a star? Is that why a Dark Lord would choose to sire an heir from someone that should have arguably been beneath his notice? "Was she really?"

Professor Snape's gaze held an intensity Harry had only seen when someone asked an especially clever question about a potion. It was a passion that the man rarely carried outside of his subject of mastery. "Your mother was brilliant."

Harry grinned. "Awesome."

Harry learned quite a bit about his mother as a child the next three days. Only three because the other students returned on the fourth day. His mother was always smiling in the memories that the Professor shared, always laughing. Harry found it was impossible to look away and in fact felt panic strike through him like lightning each time he had to blink. This was the first time he had ever truly seen his mother and he understood just how much the normally laconic man was giving away by sharing them with Harry. This was a treasure beyond measure.

The images were a little less than the portraits that lined the halls of Hogwarts, but were infinitely more than mere pictures. It was like a clip of a movie. Or memory; that was more likely seeing as the professor had been the one to give him the book. His mother told him about the flowers that grew around the Black Lake and on her favorite hill at home. She scolded him for spending all of his free time in the library and threw hexes at other kids who bullied him. She was a Gryffindor, but didn't care at all for house stereotypes and said as such to a cluster of her own housemates that went unnamed.

As the professor had said, his mom was brilliant. Brilliant and beautiful and kind. And considering her taste in men, drawn to power. Harry wondered if it was her kind heart that ultimately led her to flee his father and seek asylum with James Potter? It might make sense, honestly, especially now that Harry had a pretty good idea about the Dark Lord's campaign on a time scale. It wasn't until around the time Harry was born that his father seemed to... lose the plot, so to speak. The Death Eaters became more aggressive, more violent, more bloodthirsty. Anyone and everyone who didn't agree with his father ended up targeted or killed. Often both. (Harry wondered if his mother left because father had crossed that line or if his mother leaving had pushed the Dark Lord over the edge?)

By the time school started again in earnest, Harry was no closer to answering the questions that had cropped up now that he had pictures- memories- of his mother. He wanted to ask Professor Snape's opinion, but the man had made it inescapably clear that the start of term concluded their bonding over memories of his mother. Harry understood and thought it was a really good deal in his favor.

But that didn't mean the man was apathetic either.

"Well done," Professor Snape nodded at Harry's finished potion.

Harry tried to keep from beaming as brightly as the first time the man had given him such positive feedback, but it was a near thing. Draco grumbled mutinously under his breath, but kept all other comments to himself. "The Professor is being awfully nice to you this term," Vince pointed out

"I've studied hard for his class and it shows in my brewing," Harry said.

It wasn't a lie. It was merely an observation of Harry's improved potion skills. And if these improvements came from Harry's desire to perhaps strike another deal with the man about his mother, then that was really none of Vince's business. Probably.

Harry carried the photo album everywhere with him in his bag and didn't miss a private moment to take it out and stare at his mother's smile. When he was entrenched in the world of his mother's childhood nothing else mattered. Which is probably how Granger sneaks up on him. "She's pretty."

Harry hunches over in a strange fit and crawled several feet away before he turned to glare at the intruder. Granger's confused face stared back at him. "What you go and do that for?" she asked.

Harry scowled at the girl and hurriedly put away his mother's album. It was for his eyes only and someone had seen it. And not just someone, but Hermione Granger. If Vince or Morgana forbid Draco found out about this they would be completely intolerable for days. "Isn't lurking about a bit beneath you Granger?"

"I wasn't lurking," she sniffed pointedly, "I was researching. Professor Snape has been trying to get Professor Quirrell's help in getting past that three headed dog in the blocked corridor."

Harry's scowl deepened. "I thought you'd stopped these fantastic stories about my head of house."

"It's not just a story. I overheard Professor Quirrell arguing with him two days ago. He's had him searching for something in the forbidden forest. I've talked to the groundskeeper and he says that there's been something killing unicorns."

Harry stopped rummaging in his bag at that. To kill a unicorn would be an unthinkable taboo that one wouldn't commit lightly. The creatures were of the purest of Life magic and it would place a terrible curse onto the murderer. Only someone truly desperate would do such a thing. Someone like his father. Harry's gaze snapped to the Gryffindor's ernest expression. Granger wasn't a fool, for all of her nosiness. If she overheard Professor Snape sending the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor into a forest where unicorns were being slain- where surely only the Dark Lord could be responsible for such acts- after having tried to sneak into the third floor corridor the month before... "Are you sure it was the professor?"

"There's no one else that makes Professor Quirrell so nervous. His stutter always gets worse around Professor Snape, you know. I've noticed it several times now."

Harry frowned. If the man was really trying to retrieve whatever was being kept in the third floor corridor it was probably to aid his father. Had the professor been a Death Eater perhaps? And how would he have gotten in contact with his father in the first place? Did he know that Harry was his son, was that why he was being so... kind? (Harry thought a good part of his kindness must also be in part due to his mother.) All of these thoughts though left very little room in his head for consideration. He needed time to think. "Thank you Granger," Harry nodded once in acknowledgement and then went on his way.

There was the characteristic huff of indignation the girl always seemed to give after speaking with him before she too walked off. Harry wondered if she was always so upset after speaking to him why did she continue to do so? He thought there was a saying about that. Insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different outcome or some such rot. Harry didn't right remember, but knew Daphne would probably know. She might even be the person he had heard the saying from originally.

And now that he was thinking of it, he could probably use her help to at least organize his thoughts a bit better. Both Daphne and Helena had said they were accomplished occlumens, which was a sort of meditative technique. It allowed them to have better memory and recall, but ultimately a skilled occlumens would be able to develop a shield to protect their mind from outside penetration. Most occlumens students didn't learn anything more than the meditative technique to improve memory, but it was expected of every scion of an influential house to learn at least the basic shield.

Harry had yet to make the time to begin reading the book Helena had allowed him to borrow, but he knew that it needed to be a priority soon. As if the thoughts served as a summoning charm Daphne's voice broke his thoughts. "You shouldn't frown so, mon petit chou. We do not want premature wrinkles in your lovely face."

This only made Harry scowl at Daphne. She had only giggled when he asked what petit chou meant and Draco had refused to translate when he discovered it was Daphne who had given him the nickname. "Scowling does not make your face any less lovely," she scolded.

Harry sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

He turned to fall into step beside her and took the books she carried in her hand as was proper. "Where are you coming from?" he asked.

"I was in the library. Fred and George were up to their usual antics and it ended up being a tad too exciting for a transfiguration essay."

Harry followed her in silent disbelief. "Fred and George Weasley?"

"The very same."

"But... but they're blood traitors. Why would you interact with anyone from that family?"

The gaze she shot at him was sharp and cutting. Harry flinched back under the might of her stare. "I consider both of them to be my friends and do not take your slander against their good name well. If I knew you any less I would be insulted."

Harry quickly backtracked in horror. He hadn't- he just thought- "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

Daphne cut him off. "I know." The continued down the corridor towards the common room for a moment in silence before she sighed. "You're a sweet boy, Harry Potter. But you're rather stupid."

Harry flushed, but couldn't say that she was wrong. "Just so you know, the Weasley's aren't blood traitors. That title should be reserved for pureblood wizards whom disavow our ways and escape to the Muggle world. Their only crime against our way of life is their disregard for the pomp and circumstance common to a household of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Now they are Light Wizards, but the vast majority of their house knows what that truly means and practices it properly. Ronald Weasley is not an example of this. Furthermore, the blood feud that is going strong between the Weasleys and the Malfoys is hundreds of years old and hails back to the beginning of the Statute of Secrecy. I doubt any of the current generation of either house knows why exactly they're fighting anymore, which makes it all the more ridiculous."

He couldn't help but be amazed and a little intimidated by the blonde heiress. Daphne Greengrass was a proper pureblood lady, even at thirteen, and had a presence that surrounded her at all times.

"There's so much I don't understand. And it seems like the more I learn the less I know." Harry put his head in his hands with a groan. "Why is everything so complicated?"

Daphne's chuckle was like a trickle of music skipping across a piano. Lovely and lilting and ringing out into the common room as they entered. "That's because you're not thinking like a true Slytherin. Gryffindors gather the well published author and disregards how reputable the source. We find the masters of their fields then strive to prove them wrong."

Harry thought that was a rather exhausting outlook to have on all information one received and said as much. "Yes, well," Daphne let out another lilting laugh. She really was very pretty. "It starts paying off when you find one specific source you can never disprove. Then you branch out from there."

Harry frowned. "How can you tell when you find a good source?"

"Well for starters you find someone who has nothing to gain from lying to you. An independent third-party so to speak."

Someone who has nothing to gain from lying to him...

This is how Harry ended up at Hagrids that very afternoon having an impromptu tea meeting with the giant of a man. "How's yer classes been treating ya?" Hagrid asked after he had refilled Harry's teacup for the second time.

"Very well, thank you Hagrid."

Harry had learned rather quickly his first time here for tea to leave the rock cakes soaking in the tea indefinitely if he hoped to nibble on the brick (and he had to if he expected to get away with grilling Hagrid for more information).

"I remember my first year like it was only yesterday. Mind, it's been quite a bit longer than that," Hagrid grinned at his own joke.

Harry chuckled at the sight of Hagrid's beard crinkling up enough to show a sliver of teeth. He was probably the nicest adult he had met besides Professor Snape. It was better with Hagrid only because the giant had no particular reason to be nice to him. Hagrid wasn't his professor nor his head of house. The giant was nice because that's just how he was. It was probably what Harry liked most about him. The simplicity in their relationship. "Say Hagrid," Harry began, finally taking a bite out of the rock cake. It was still solid. "I found something rather curious the other day."

"Oh?"

Harry returned the cake into his tea. If a few more minutes did not good he would just feed the rock to Fang. "Yes. I thought I had heard an animal locked in a room, but when I got there it was a cerberus."

Hagrid inhaled the sip of tea he had just taken and began coughing uncontrollably. 'Honestly,' thought Harry, 'I've hardly begun my questioning and he's already giving up everything.'

"How'd you find out about Fluffy?"

It was this time for Harry to be surprised. "Fluffy? You mean that thing has a name."

"O' course he does. He's mine ain't he? Besides, everyone's got a name. I loaned 'im to Dumbledore to protect the stone."

Hagrid's eyes widened and Harry zoned in like a bloodhound after a fox. "A stone? So there is something hidden away in the third floor corridor? It was that same grubby package that you took from Gringotts that day, wasn't it? Someone tried to steal it you know. They might have been in the bank at the same time as we were."

"I should not 'av said that," Hagrid grumbled under his breath as he came to a stand.

"What kind of stone is worth all of this? And what can a dog do that a Gringotts vault cannot?"

"Now ya listen to me. It's none of yer business what Fluffy's guarding. That there's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

This time Harry couldn't resist his smile of victory. Hagrid, in contrast, looked angry with himself. "I shouldn't 'av said that," he repeated to himself.

"That's alright Hagrid," Harry encouraged his friend. "I won't let anyone know you told me." While he did want to know what was so important that could possibly entice Professor Snape to potentially lose his job, he didn't want to ruin his friendship with the giant of a man to do so.

Hagrid looked only slightly mollified and even after Harry had waved goodbye the man looked glum. For his part Harry went straight to Vince and Draco. The two were playing a game of wizard's chess in the common room, but it was still early enough that most everyone else were out somewhere else enjoying the good weather. It was Draco, surprisingly enough, that not only knew who Nicolas Flamel was, but had a bit of an idea on what 'stone' was being guarded by Fluffy. "The elixir of life?" Vince asked.

"It's a potion that makes the drinker immortal. You can only make it if you use a philosopher's stone, but there are probably several other ingredients involved."

Harry, only had one thought running through his head. As soon as Draco had spoken of the abilities of the philosopher's stone his mind had been made up. "We have to get it."

The two boys looked at him in different levels of surprise. "What?" Draco was the first to recover, which wasn't all that surprising considering how much he loved to hear himself speak. "What do you mean we have to get it?"

"For the Dark Lord," Harry explained. For his father.

Draco scoffed and crossed his arms in complete refusal. He had met Harry's insistence that he hadn't really killed the Dark Lord that Samhain night with complete and utter skepticism. The blond had reasoned that if the Dark Lord hadn't been killed his father would certainly know of it. Harry had had a few thoughts concerning the Malfoy patriarch that brought the man's intelligence into question. Harry didn't doubt the man had cunning to spare. But some level of common sense should have been used when Harry's father had disappeared. Vince, as always, was the voice of reason. "You said that Granger thinks Professor Snape was trying to get the stone. Do you still think that he could be involved? If so, it will be that much more difficult for us."

Harry was conflicted. The man had honestly been nothing but kind to him. He wasn't warm and cuddly, but he was the Slytherin head of house, it was to be expected. He cared in his own way. But some of the things that Granger and then Hagrid had said weren't adding up. Why would Professor Snape be even going into Fluffy's room? And for what purpose?

"I don't see any gain for him. He has to know already what the dog is guarding."

"Yes, but I doubt the Headmaster left it to that groundskeeper alone to protect something that had almost been stolen from Gringotts. There are probably several teachers involved which means multiple protections," Draco drawled.

He had taken the accusation of their potion's master the worst out of all of them. Not that any of them thought it was likely in the first place. Harry just recognized that Granger wasn't an idiot and he had seen the Professor's limp himself that first week of November. It occurred to Harry that he might want to stop trying to alienate Draco so often if he wanted to maintain some semblance of an alliance with him. Between Harry's aversion for his father, assurances of the Dark Lords inevitable return, and now accusations to the boy's godfather... "You're right," Harry quickly agreed, deciding that it was better to start doing damage control sooner rather than later. "It would make no sense."

But it was the only lead they had.

"If you plan to retrieve whatever's being guarded by that dog we'll need a way to get past it," Vince said. "We haven't had Care of Magical Creatures but I doubt it is something covered in the basic classes."

"And we're not going to anyone for help," Draco immediately insisted. "All it will take is one loose tongued idiot to tip off the professors that someone's been down that corridor."

Harry frowned. They could probably scour the library for a book. He didn't want to try his luck again with Hagrid so soon after the man had revealed what Fluffy had been guarding in the first place.

"There's bound to be a book in the library about getting past a cerberus."

"Are you talking about Orpheus and Euridyce?"

Vince and Draco remained cool and collected, but Harry jumped like he had been caught casting an Unforgivable. Helena arched a questioning eyebrow at him as she plopped down in the seat next to him. Harry glanced from Vince to Draco and decided he would have to play the part of the uncultured idiot. "Who?"

"Orpheus and Euridyce. It's a myth about a guy who was so distraught upon his wife's passing that the music he played entranced all in the Underworld who heard it including Hades. The god agreed to allow his wife's spirit return to the plane of the living with him if he would walk back out of the Underworld without looking behind him. Of course the idiot got right to the gate back to the world of the living only to turn around, but I figure that was because he was a muggle."

Harry waited for the part where Helena explained how this involved Fluffy, but the prefect seemed done. "Oh!" Draco lurched forward as if shocked. "There was a cerberus used to guard the entrance to the Underworld!"

Harry still didn't get it. He looked to Vince, but the other simply shrugged and pointedly stared at Draco. For his part Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That means playing music would calm it down. I'd forgotten that most of that mythos was initially used as parables."

That was news to Harry. But now that he thought about it, there might be a lot of misplaced history in the tales of gods and goddesses that simply had to do with a muggle discovering something they weren't supposed to. "Like a lullaby?"

Helena shrugged. "Sounds about right. I can't imagine Orpheus played a rock song for his dearly departed."

It was Harry's turn to understand a reference that the other two purebloods didn't. Helena was a pureblood like most of the rest of Slytherin house, but had claimed to have extended half-blood cousins that occasionally liked to smuggle muggle things to their family gatherings. She claimed to be particularly fond of Bon Jovi, an American band with a few muggleborns in their band. "How did you lot get on the subject of bedtime stories anyway?"

"Vince and Draco were telling me about some things muggles have stories about that actually exist. Like dragons, goblins, and centaurs," Harry said without hesitation.

He wasn't the worst liar in the world, but Vince had warned that he was prone to fidgeting when nervous. All this did was make Harry more aware of each shift he made on the sofa. The result was he held himself like a suit of armor to compensate. Helena knew this, but allowed him his secrets all the same. "Have fun with that, firsties. Have any of you seen my cousin? It has been too long since I last terrorized him and I have to keep him on his toes."

"Nott went to the library with Boot and Abbott."

Helena popped up out of her seat. "Oh he's with girls is he? Now I simply have to greet him."

And with that she strode out of the common room without even bothering to question the three of them further. Harry grinned. Draco scowled. "If I had been up to anything by myself that woman would have had it out for me," he whined.

"Helena likes me best," Harry preened.

"Just to be on the safe side," Vince interrupted what was sure to be a Malfoy tantrum the likes of which Harry hadn't seen in months, "we should try to go tonight. There's not much time left in the school year and exams are next week besides. That way we have Sunday to try again in case there's something we can't get past."

All three agreed and had no more discussion about their potential theft of a priceless artifact from the school. The way Harry had it figured, the others were mostly doing it because even the most cunning Slytherin loved a good adventure. (Of course they weren't going to tell the Gryffindors that. Draco said they might try to bond and had shuddered as if there was no worse thing he could dream of.) Thanks to Vince's knowledge of the prefect routes from here to the third floor (highly suspect, but Harry hadn't questioned him about how exactly he had come into that knowledge), they made it to the door that Fluffy hid behind without any problems. Draco had cast a charm that created a floating orb that glowed a soft blue light that played a lilting lullaby. Vince raised an eyebrow in question but the sneer (paired with his flushed cheeks) made it obvious that they were not allowed to ask. Within moments Fluffy was asleep. "Huh," Harry said as he helped Vince push his paw out of the way, "I didn't really think that would work..."

"Shows what you know," Draco tilted his chin up.

Again Harry got the urge to tell him that all that did was make it easier to see up his stupid nose. "Come on Harry," Vince nudged him forward, "Down the hatch."

He wanted to ask why he had to go down the dark hole first when it was likely to lead them into a horrible trap set by a professor. But the answer was obvious. It had been his decision to steal the stone. It was his responsibility to lead the way.

"Ugh," Harry sighed before he took the plummet feet first.

It felt remarkably like that one time he fell out a tree trying to hide from Dudley and his friends. Only it was rather dark. And the ground was... squishy. "What is this?!" Draco sounded a few moments from a panic attack.

"Relax," Vince's voice cut through the sudden sliding sound of movement coming from all around them. "This is devil's snare. This must be Professor Sprout's protection."

Harry sat up only to discover his legs were tied. "Isn't that the plant that strangles everything that get caught in it?"

"What?!" Draco squaked. "It's got me! Potter this is all your fault!"

"My fault? You and Vince had plenty of time to-Vince!?"

The other boy had been completely overrun by the vines and disappeared into the bowels of the monster vines. "We're going to die here!" Draco wailed.

"Not if you two just relax," came Vince's disjointed voice.

"Vince!"

"Crabbe! Where are you?"

"Beneath you." He sounded surprisingly calm for someone potentially watching his two allies being crushed by living plants. "The devil's snare leads into another corridor. If you relax your body it will think it's already killed you and let you fall down. It's not much of a drop either."

When the three of them were finally reunited beneath the devil's snare, Draco was threatening to light the plant aflame and Harry was a bit less confidant about their chances to retrieve the stone for his father. Vince didn't agree. "You honestly think this is worse than what could have possibly been protecting it in Gringotts? Vault 713 wasn't very deep, but it was no easy feat for someone to get that deep without a goblin escort. In comparison a cerebrus and devil's snare is nothing."

"He's right you know," Draco said after he had finished a flurry of grooming charms to straighten his robes and hair. "A stunning spell and a fire spell would have been more than enough for both of those if you didn't know the tricks. It's rather juvenile honestly."

"It's almost like the Headmaster wants the stone to be stolen," Harry muttered to himself.

Vince turned to look at him in contemplative silence. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking but it was a moot point when they entered the next room. "Are those birds?" Draco whispered.

"Keys," Vince said. "Probably to the door across the way."

In the center of the room were a set of brooms. "Draco," Harry gestured towards the floating brooms. "You've always bragged during lessons that you're a shoe in for our house team next year. Go on. Find the key."

The blond scowled. "There have to be hundreds of keys up there, how am I supposed to find which one it is?"

"You're looking for an old skeleton key. Brass," Vince called from by the door where he was crouched. "Most of those look to be silver."

Harry grinned at his ally. "It will be good practice for the Seeker position."

"But I want to be a chaser," Draco grumbled as he took off his school robes and threw them at Harry's still grinning face.

Harry was grinning a whole lot less when as soon as Draco rose in the air the keys swarmed and started diving straight at him. "Draco run!" he shouted.

"Good idea Potter," he snapped back as he bobbed in between the columns. "I'll just jump off the ruddy broom!"

"Look for the key," Vince added his two knuts.

"I hate you both!"

He expressed how much in graphic detail once they were finally on the other side of the door. Vince and Harry only smiled wider. "I hope you're ready Harry," Draco snapped as he strutted forward. "It's your turn to solve the professor's mystery quest."

Harry rolled his eyes, but knew Draco was right. As everything stood Draco had solved two and Vince one. It was about time Harry pulled his weight in this quest. It only stood to reason that of course they would then step onto a giant chessboard. "Damn," Harry hissed.

He was absolute pants at wizard's chess. Draco scowled the entire time he was directing the pieces. He put himself in the place of the queen ("I'm not getting one more bruise on this stupid trip!" he had whined when Vince and Harry had looked at him consideringly.) Vince and Harry had been rooks.

Draco had wiped the board with the other side. "I bet that was Professor McGonogall's," Vince said as they ran across the board as the broken pieces were dragged to the graveyard at the corner of the room. "That woman is brilliant."

Draco sniffed, but it was obvious he agreed. Not that he would ever voice a compliment to a Gryffindor aloud. Even if it was a professor. "I swear if this isn't something for Harry I'm claiming his place in hierarchy. I'm pulling all the weight."

Vince shrugged. As it so happened Harry was brilliant at potions and not too bad at logic. Daphne absolutely loved riddles. They each took a small sip of the potion so there would be enough for the way back. It would be just their luck to be stuck after they got the stone and be caught red-handed. (Harry would later snicker at the thought considering the stone was in fact blood red.)

No one laughed when they saw the slumbering troll in the next room. "Why'd they keep this thing?" Draco hissed between clenched teeth as they edged carefully around.

Neither Vince nor Harry wanted to risk awakening the creature to answer so they continued their cautious shuffle along the edge of the room. Harry thanked Merlin, Morganna, and all the olde gods that the thing remained asleep. "Please tell me there isn't some astronomy quiz next," Harry whispered even after they had left the troll behind. "I'd hate to see how one would weaponize the stars."

"What about an armed goblin for History of Magic?" Vince offered.

Draco groaned. "You two can fight the next two by yourselves. I've done most of the challenges and deserve the respite."

But it wasn't a goblin or a weaponized telescope. "It's a mirror."

The three of them had entered the last antechamber with no sight of another corridor. This was the end. "Where's the stone?" Draco hadn't exactly whined the question, but his voice was a bit higher.

Harry stepped forward, gazing at the words on the top. He knew this mirror. "Maybe we took a wrong turn," Vince said. "We can see if there is another door in the corridor."

Harry remained silent. Professor Snape said the mirror had been removed. Harry had assumed that meant it was taken away from the school, but here it was as unassuming as the first time he had stumbled upon it. "Harry, come on," Draco hissed.

His gaze did not move away from the Mirror of Erised. "I show not your face but your heart's desire..."

There was a tug on his arm then Vince's voice. "What are you on about?"

"I know this mirror. I found it during Yule hols. It shows what you want the most."

"Then ask it where the stone is so we can get out of here. This potion doesn't last that long."

Harry nodded his head, but could not help but look to the two figures that appeared in the glass. There was his father still in the foreground and turned away. He moved his gaze away from the fully cloaked figure of his father. Harry could see his mother now, but had no memories of his father to draw from. Even if the Dark Lord turned around how likely was it that it would actually be his father's image? It's not like he would know the difference anyway. A flash of movement in the corner of the mirror had the three of them turning around.

It wasn't Professor Snape. It was Professor Quirrell.

Harry felt such overwhelming relief at this reveal that he momentarily forgot the seriousness of the situation they were in. "You're not Professor Snape..."

"Snape," the man sneered without stuttering. "Yes, he does seem like the sort doesn't he?"

"Ha!" Draco shouted as he pointed a finger in Harry's direction. "I told you it couldn't be him."

Vince stared at him incredulously. "You want to have this argument now?"

"Oh. Well of course not. I just wanted it to be noted that I was right."

"Noted," Harry said, not taking his eyes off of Professor Quirrel.

There was something especially strange about the man presently. Admittedly Harry had never much cared for their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher so he might be projecting, but the man seemed creepier than usual. It was something to do with his eyes. They were sharp, almost predatorial. The man's mouth lifted into a cruel smile. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself boy. What with all the skulking about he does, Severus does seem the likely choice. After all who in their right mind would expect p-p-poor Profes-prof-professor Qu-quirrell..." The smile turned into a leer.

"Our mistake Professor," Vince began pushing him and Draco to the side of the room, "We just wanted to see what was in the forbidden corridor, but it turned out to be nothing but a stupid mirror. We best be going before Professor Snape has our hides."

Gathering the general idea Draco and Harry started hurrying for the stairs, but fire sprung up circling the room and blocked their every exit. Harry turned to see Professor Quirrell's wand pointed at them. "Not so fast. I'll be needing your help."

Harry's stomach plummeted.

What happened next was nine of the worst minutes of Harry's rather short life and ended with Draco's arm broken, Vince badly burned, and Harry killing a professor with his bare hands. By the time the three had run into Professor Snape and the Headmaster in the giant chess game room they had decided to not speak of it again. Of course, that was a moot point when their Head of House asked Draco about the events that had transpired. True to form, even in pain and dirty Draco Malfoy could spin a tale like no one else. He managed to talk them all the way up to the hospital at which point the Headmaster excused himself (hopefully not to alert the Aurors that Harry had killed a professor) and they were left alone with Professor Snape.

This was hardly an improvement as the man stewed so angrily in silence as they were being treated that Harry was sure he could see the storm clouds brewing over his head. By Vince's and Draco's wide-eyes and hunched shoulders they too saw their impending doom. ('Or,' Harry thought with no real hope, 'Maybe their pain potions haven't started working yet.')

It wasn't until Madame Pomphrey finished tending to them and vanished into her office that the man started in on them. But by then Harry's shoulders had hunched so far up that his ears were muffled considerably from any impending shouting to occur.

The professor did not raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Nothing," Professor Snape hissed, "Nothing gives you the right to stalk around the halls, to deliberately disobey the rules placed for your own safety and risk the lives of your classmates."

Draco and Vince flinched back, but Harry remained motionless in the hospital bed. The Dursley's had spoken often to him as if he was at fault for everything wrong with the world. Yet the Professor seemed to be worried mostly about his safety and that of Vince and Draco, who he had put in danger in hopes of retrieving the Philosopher's Stone to gain his father's favor. Harry saw now that it had really been a foolhardy plan and doomed to fail (but only because Professor Quirrel had gone crazy and had spoiled everything).

The potions master didn't seem satisfied with Harry's accepting silence and turned sharply to storm away. "I will be taking 150 points from Slytherin for this transgression."

"But professor!' Draco wailed, "We'll lose the House C-"

"Fifty points," he continued without a care for Draco's complaint, "For each life you endangered with your Gryffindor brashness and foolish lack of forethought. I would place you in detention for the rest of the term, but I don't want to see your face until September. Do I make myself clear, Potter?"

At that, Harry did flinch. He hated that last name. Especially when it was said with that acerbic disdain the way the Professor and the Dursleys were so good at. "Yes sir," Harry whispered.

The man took large strides out of the room and closed the infirmary doors behind him with a sharp wave his wand. Harry flinched again at the boom the doors made. He felt abysmal. Professor Snape had been furious. Somehow Harry was sure the man had been greatly disappointed in his actions this night and would not be quick to forgive or forget.

He might even hold a grudge.

Draco was working himself into a right state on the cot next to Harry. "This will be the first time in seven years Slytherin hasn't won the House Cup and it will be all our faults. Flint's going to kill us!"

Vince's answering groan summed up the three Slytherin's moods very effectively.

* * *

**A/N: Please accept my sincere apologies about this late update. It didn't occur to me until the next day that I had not updated on Monday as scheduled despite having been working on future chapters non-stop all weekend. This chapter in particular initially concerned me with how I was going to fit so much time in one chapter. It worked out rather well by adding a paragraph here and there allowing me to be able to span six months in twenty pages give or take. There was quite a bit set up to get to the Philosopher's Stone debacle (and Harry wasn't even really concerned about it at first until Hermione reminded him again of her suspicions) but we got there in the end. Snape, of course, was angry. You'll see quite a bit more of that in the next four or so chapters because both of them are idiots that like to add fuel to the fire rather than come to some sort of understanding. The next chapter was very long so was cut into parts but that did not save chapter eight from being longer still. There is a ton of filler, I'm afraid, in chapter seven but more development of Harry's relationships with the Slytherins and we see him come into his own as Heir to a pureblood house thanks to Narcissa Malfoy's tutelage. (I've always adored Narcissa no matter how brief our interaction with her in canon was. That woman was a true Slytherin, let no one say otherwise.)**

**I apologize again about the late update. This chapter had already been written and was ready to post I had simply lost my mind. But next week will be on time. I will set an alarm!**

**À bientôt!**


	7. Chapter 7

See the end for Author's Notes.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

There were several good things to note about Harry's life following the Philosopher's Stone escapade. The first was that Marcus Flint did not in fact kill them. He was much too busy trying to pummel Oliver Wood from Gryffindor who was shouting threats about quidditch next season. (Harry wondered at Helena's strange insistence that the two were obviously in love with one another. He couldn't see how when not even Professor Snape's scowl would make Flint back down if he was heated enough.)

Hufflepuff ended up winning the house cup which was rather nice actually. They celebrated by sharing their sweets with the other tables. Harry quickly learned that Zacharias Smith and Ernie McMillan were not outliers for the badger house. Hufflepuffs, as it turned out, could be right scary bastards. Which made it all the more impressive that both Wood and Flint were silenced by a Hufflepuff prefect and goaded into accepting victory biscuits.

The second good thing was that despite being heavily dosed with a pain potion of some kind that made his arm feel like it was wrapped in a warm blanket and running on three hours of sleep from the night before, Harry managed six O's and an E (Astronomy, of course. He didn't have the luxury of being descended from a family who named their children after constellations). Luckily Malfoy had no room to brag as he got an E in History of Magic ("Binns has droned on and on about goblin wars for the last year! How was I supposed to know anything about MACUSA's Rappaport's Law?").

The third, final, and probably best of all three was this: Harry didn't have to go back to the Dursleys. Draco had invited Harry to spend the summer with him at Malfoy Manor. It was an invitation that Harry had no reserve in accepting even while considering the effects it would have on their rankings in the Slytherin hierarchy. Draco could enjoy the boost in his rank and Harry wouldn't have to worry about the Dursley's for another year. If he could manage to find his father soon, he might never have to again. He could spend Yule and Beltane at Hogwarts until that day. Everything was going rather well for Harry as he started his first summer of his new life. (And if Professor Snape still didn't look at him when he tried to wish the man goodbye, well Harry supposed he deserved that.)

The suite they gave him was across the hall from Draco's rooms and could fit the Slytherin dorms within them twice over. His bathroom was the size of the common room alone! And the bed was this monstrosity that felt like a cloud. Harry spent the first fifteen minutes in his room simply spread out onto the soft comforter. It smelled like lillies. Mrs. Baker of number six Privet Drive grew an assortment in her garden along the fence line that separated number four and six. (Aunt Petunia hated Mrs. Baker of number six.)

A knock at the door roused him from his mind wanderings. "Come in!" he shouted.

Draco opened the door with an exasperated huff. "Just so you know, it is improper to tell someone to open the door to your own suite. You have to open it yourself and invite them in."

"But I did just invite you in," Harry pointed out.

Draco sighed. It was the same one that Vince and Daphne used when he had missed something they thought to be obvious. "But I'll remember to do so from now on," Harry continued before he could start in on his version of Daphne's "proper etiquette" rant.

"It won't matter much with us being peers, but if my mother or father come calling, you must rise to offer them entrance. They're your hosts and will respect what little privacy you are afforded while enjoying their hospitality."

Harry nodded again, a tad more seriously. Draco seemed to accept it as such because he smiled. "Right then. It is time for supper. I've just come to collect you."

At the mention of food Harry scurried off the bed, his own smile adorning his face. "Brilliant. I'm starved."

Draco's mouth twisted into a confused wrinkle when Harry came to a stop at his side. "Aren't you going to get dressed?"

Harry glanced down at his tunic and pants. He had removed his robes as soon as they entered, following the lead of the Malfoys. It felt a bit strange not wearing them for the first time in almost a year but Draco wasn't wearing any either. "I am dressed."

Draco rolled his eyes. "For supper, Harry."

Harry looked at the boy like he had lost the plot. Draco's own expression of exasperation quickly turned into a mirror image. "By the gods Harry, we're not at school. In a proper household one gets dressed for the evening meal."

Harry had never heard of such a thing. "So... I should wear robes then?"

Draco flinched. 'Okay, not the right thing to say,' he thought to himself as the blond stormed towards the wardrobe his clothes had been put away in. "Please tell me you have something better than school robes and traveling clothes in your closet."

"I have a set of dress robes."

The look his classmate sent him clearly indicated that this was also not the right answer. "Dress robes are outerwear. Do you have a suit? A tunic made out of silk? A finer fabric of trousers? Dinner clothes, Harry! Do you have dinner clothes?"

By the end of this little tirade Draco was rummaging through Harry's wardrobe in a panic. He didn't seem to be finding whatever he had hoped to amongst the several pieces of fabric he began throwing out onto the nearby bed. "I just got a set of everyday clothes from Madam Malkin."

Draco froze. Slowly (a rather dramatic slowness Harry thought) his friend turned back to him with the most scandalized expression. "You actually bought clothes from Madam Malkin?"

Harry knew whatever he said next was going to be the wrong answer, but he had to say something. "Yes...?" He lengthened the word hoping to deter whatever explosion of snobbishness Draco was about to enact next. It was all for naught. "Mibby!"

A house elf popped into the room. Before it could say anything Draco turned to it with a most fearsome expression for a twelve year old. "Mibby go get me my forest green tunic from the Minister's inauguration and the obsidian trousers and doublet from last Yule."

When the elf disappeared he turned his gray gaze back on Harry. "Get undressed now. Where are the gifts Daphne gave you? I know she gave you that Sleekeazy's kit for Yule. Which one did you get?"

Harry resisted the urge he had to sigh heavily. Draco meant well, he really did. He was just annoying at the best of times and Harry had a very low tolerance for annoying people. He supposed that it was a monster trait. It made sense that his father's own lack of tolerance led him to torture and kill indiscriminately during the later years of his campaign.

Rather than answer, Harry turned to his trunk where his school books and other items were still tucked away. He noticed rather belatedly that the mysterious gift from Yule was still tucked away in his potions compartment and made a mental note to take it out and ask Mrs. Malfoy to test it for dangerous spells. He trusted her a bit more than Lucius Malfoy that was for sure. Hearing 'my father says...' on an endless loop through his first year had given him a rather healthy dislike for the Malfoy patriarch early on. No one's father could really be that great. (Well no one but the Dark Lord of course.) Harry grabbed the bag he had tucked the hair concoctions away in and passed it to Draco, already accepting that he was going to be manhandled into proper pureblood dinner attire. Honestly, Harry had had no idea that there was such a thing. It was his understanding that a member of the old houses were always well put together and only put forth any extensive effort for things such as Ministry gatherings or holidays and balls. Not a simple family dinner. "Oh! She's gotten you the extended treatment. This thing is worth a year's subscription to Goblins and Galleons."

Harry didn't know what Goblins and Galleons was, a newspaper maybe? Draco continued to prattle on as he walked towards the large basin that sat on the side of the room. "Come on then. We don't have enough time for the whole treatment, but we can at least detangle that nest of hair of yours," he said as he uncorked a vial and set it down.

Mibby returned just then with an outfit floating in the air next to her. "Mibby be shrinking the doublet and trousers for Young Master's guest. Can Mibby be doing anything else?"

"Excellent! Yes, Harry will need a quick rinse. Do his hair and have him dressed. I'll go stall my parents." And with that Draco bounded out of the room.

Harry turned to the three-foot tall creature. "I'm not going to get out of this am I?"

It blinked large oval eyes up at him. Harry sighed. "Alright. Do your worst."

By the time Harry was escorted down the hall, around the corner, down a flight of stairs, and up another hall to the dining room, his head still tingled uncomfortably from the potion and he had only just managed to loosen the cravat the elf had magically tied around his neck enough to be able to breathe. "Mister Potter," Lady Malfoy greeted as she came to a rise.

Draco and his father also rose and nodded in greeting. Harry bowed at the waist and only just managed not to trip over his own feet at the sudden light-headed spell from bending over too fast. "Lady Malfoy," he said in his best 'Heir Potter' voice (he had practiced with Daphne). "I am honored by your gracious hospitality in inviting me into your home."

"It is our honor," Lucius spoke up as he came to stand at his wife's side.

Lady Malfoy gave him a soft smile before motioning for them to sit once again. Harry found himself to the right of Lady Malfoy and across the table from Draco who kept making understated head gestures of some kind at him. Harry hoped the boy was satisfied with that terror of a house elf he had unleashed upon him. He decided he didn't much care for a creature that didn't have the good sense to be scared of a monster.

When Harry finally returned to the guest room set aside for him, it was with a sudden and unending loathing for the pointless protocol for what Draco insisted was a 'proper dinner'. There had been seven separate plates- courses- and although the portion sizes were small and Harry had managed to improve his appetite after a full year of Hogwarts meals, he had barely been able to finish the fourth one. By the time the seventh came around the mere smell of food made his stomach ache. He decided he would never admit to be 'starved' while enjoying the Malfoy's hospitality again. For all he knew, Draco had told his parents and they had saw it as a challenge.

"Oh good you're still awake," came the sound of Draco's voice from somewhere behind Harry.

He groaned in dismay. The bed was soft enough that Harry was buried under miles of covers and pillows. This didn't keep his ally from pulling the pillow covering his face away. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep..." Harry grumbled.

"Well, not in those clothes, you'll get them wrinkled. Take them off and set them aside. Mibby will make sure they are properly put away. Do you want some tea?"

Harry groaned again at the thought of putting anything else in his stomach. There was absolutely no way he was going to fit another bite of anything in there without bursting at the seams. "There are chocolate biscuits," Draco said.

As weak as only a boy who hadn't had chocolate for a decade could be, Harry immediately roused himself and followed Draco to the sitting area where Mibby was indeed setting down a platter of chocolate biscuits. Just to spite his stomach's protests Harry ate two. "You're lucky I checked on you," Draco said after he finished his fifth biscuit. "That could have been a disaster."

Harry had no idea how the boy wasn't as big as Dudley with the way he ate sweets. Even at Hogwarts the blond's sweet tooth was a thing of stories. He could out-sweet even Goyle and Vince who both simply liked food as a whole. Furthermore, Harry had no idea what Draco was talking about just now. "What are you on about?"

"Be serious, Harry. You almost went to dinner in subpar clothing for no other reason than simple negligence. Can you imagine the look on mother's face if she had caught sight of you?"

Honestly Harry couldn't imagine Lady Malfoy looking anything more than the proper pureblood lady of a powerful house and said as such. Draco sniffed. "Yes, you're quite right. But still, father would have most definitely said something."

The simple act of imagining of what the great and oh so wonderful Lucius Malfoy would have to say about Harry's attire seemed to feel Draco with an insurmountable amount of dread. It made Harry roll his eyes. "But we won't have to worry about that," Draco said hurriedly to dismiss the thought. "Get some rest. We're going on an outing tomorrow."

In a flurry of elf magic and well wishes for a good night's rest, both Draco and the tea set were cleaned up and whisked away. Harry still had his third biscuit in his hand where he had still been nibbling on it.

He stuffed the rest in his mouth and went about getting ready for bed. If they were going for an outing, did that mean they were going to Diagon Alley? He had a need of a few more books about his father. Harry was still trying to find a credible source that didn't breeze over his father's accomplishments and ideologies as some crusade to destroy everyone but dark magic wielders.

That night when he dreamed it was of his father's cloaked figure from the Mirror of Erised and Professor Quirrell's turban. Harry kept speaking to his father, but it was the turban that kept answering his questions. (Harry wondered briefly if the black smoke that had flown away from Quirrell's ashes was another monster?)

By the time that Mibby bid him to rise the following morning Harry hadn't slept well at all. He must have looked truly dreadful because the house elf set out a pepper up with yet another set of Draco's clothes that morning. Harry didn't make a single complaint through the two hour escapade of getting dressed (the majority of which was spent trying to tame his hair that had undone any effects that yesterday's treatment might have had overnight).

Breakfast at the Malfoy Manor was no less extravagant, but at least all the food was served all at once rather than as separate courses. Harry systematically sectioned and resectioned his porridge so that it looked like he had eaten some and palmed an apple for later in case he got hungry. Lucius was the first to excuse himself that morning with some important business to attend to at the ministry at the crack of dawn. Harry didn't envy him, but knew that one day he might have to do his father's bidding at sunrise for one reason or another. "It is best that we are off as well," Lady Malfoy announced not even ten minutes later.

Harry made no attempt at hiding his eagerness to leave the table. He hadn't wanted to take the journey back to his guest room when they were to leave at any minute. Draco set his cup down and patted his face with the napkin before he too rose. As expected, they flooed to Diagon Alley (an altogether horrible way of travel and Harry will not be repeating it any more than absolutely necessary). They made a efficient exit out of the Leaky Cauldron and were walking through Diagon Alley within minutes. When Lady Malfoy showed no signs of slowing her purposeful gait Harry became concerned. "Where are we going?" he dared to ask.

"Shopping, Mister Potter. Draco has informed me that you have a need for proper attire befitting an Heir of your status. We will seek to aid you in this endeavor."

Harry groaned. He hated shopping. "But I've already bought clothes from Madam Malkins."

"Yes. Madam Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion," Draco said. "She makes uniform robes like for ministry employees, Hogwarts students, or quidditch players. You don't go to her for actual clothing. That's what Twilfitt and Tattings is for."

Harry's confusion must have been obvious because Lady Malfoy explained.

"There are differences in craft, Mister Potter. You wouldn't go to a baker for a gauteau, you would go to a patisserie. The baker might be able to create a cake for you and it will be delicious, but it is the patisserie's craft. Obviously one would want the specialized craftsmen rather than the generalist."

Harry didn't know what a patisserie or a gateau was but assumed both had something to do with baking. "So it's the difference between going to an alchemist or a potioneer for a panacea. You would have to wonder if the potioneer was simply giving you a tonic or a bezoar solution and whether or not it was appropriate for your needs."

Draco beamed at him. "Exactly. So you can see why it is horrible that you bought clothes from Madam Malkins of all places. What if someone had called for my father at dinner and then seen you dressed as a pauper at our table? Can you just imagine the outcry?"

Harry, in fact, could imagine it and it sounded remarkably like Daphne's voice. "Then would it be inappropriate to get a regulation robe from T-tilfinch and Tatterings...?"

"Twilfitt and Tattings and no. They are capable and have access to the specific measurements, but it is a bit beneath them. It would be akin to asking a master herbalist to provide you with a dandelion flower."

Harry wanted to point out that dandelion was technically a weed and furthermore its roots came in very useful for certain types of potions, but he figured that was besides the point. You didn't ask a master for something you could get from a corner store apothecary.

"At least that explains why your attire is the way it is," Draco continued as they came to a stop in front of a violet-colored shop in one of the alleys that branched off of Diagon. "I had thought you were one of those progressive sorts like the Selwynns."

Harry wasn't sure what his choice in clothing had to do with his political views. He had known that pureblood customs and etiquette was convoluted and in some instances seemingly pointless. A lot of it was also contradictory. Harry wouldn't be surprised if the stitching on his inseam had an obscure meaning that indicated he was right handed. As it turned out, it wasn't anything nearly as specific. A pureblood traditionalist like the families Malfoy and Black simply had a more dated attire that was slightly different to Harry's current fashion.

The man and woman duo that ran the shop had been pleased when the Malfoys had walked in. They went completely mental when they discovered Harry was to purchase an entire set of summer and winter clothing. He never thought he'd have such a wide variety of shirts to choose from in so many shades of white and gray (cream and silver or eggshell and moonbeam or on and on and on), but he was sure that he had ten the exact same shade of white no matter what batty Master Twilfitt said. Then there were doublets, jerkins, and waistcoats which generally looked the same but Madam Tattings assured him was not. And breeches which were not to be confused with riding pants, both of which he would need fourteen sets of each on top of actual trousers which could be worn informally (seven sets). There wasn't a single pair of jeans in sight.

All of this was just the summer wardrobe, he was reminded after the fourth hour. Suffice it to say Harry would never again go shopping with the Malfoys. He never wanted to go shopping again and knowing the amount of clothes he had been coerced into purchasing he wouldn't need to. He would transfigure his own clothes for whatever growth spurt he might have, but damned if he was ever going to go into a store to buy even so much as a pair of socks again!

"Wasn't that fun?" Draco smiled.

Harry would have hexed his friend if Lady Malfoy wasn't right next to them. "I think I will have a stroll through the gardens upon our return. Would you boys care to join me?"

"Harry needs to do his next eye treatment and he will have to remain out of sunlight until tomorrow. We thank you for the invitation," Draco answered for the both of them before Harry could get in a word edgewise.

When they flooed back into the atrium of Malfoy Manor, Harry turned on the blond as soon as the Lady disappeared amongst the endless halls. "I would actually have liked to see the grounds. I've been cooped up inside all summer."

Draco rolled his eyes. The hierarchical status that they held while at school did not seem to affect the boy's interactions with Harry within his own home, not that he had expected it to. What was disheartening was that he was sure Draco would take this newfound informalness and bring it back to Hogwarts with him. Vince was bound to find the entire situation amusing when he visited in two weeks.

"You never attend mother when she visits the garden. It is where she goes when she wants time to herself. I believe she feels at peace there."

"Then why did she ask us if we wanted to go?"

"Good manners. You are experiencing her hospitality. Of course she would offer the opportunity for a guest to come along."

Harry had no doubt that if he had been allowed to accompany her, the Lady Malfoy would have been as kind and cordial as she had been his entire stay. The perfect hostess. "Your mum's pretty amazing."

"Oh please," Draco scoffed. "I have a mother, not a mum. And of course she is. She's a Malfoy."

Harry wanted to point out that Lady Malfoy hailed from the House of Black but refrained. It was more likely to start an argument than prove a point and he had already filled his weekly quota of sanity he could waste on Draco Malfoy. True to his earlier claim, the blond did make Harry take his next eye treatment and he spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled out on the bed with watering eyes and talking about all the foreign wizarding cities that Draco has visited, of which there were many. Harry thought that his favorite thus far was Byzantium in modern day Istanbul. Draco said that it was warded similar to Paris, where the wizarding world existed in an 'alternate' space of its own next to the muggles. A lot of older magical cities were like that even before the Statute was imposed.

Harry spent the rest of his summer dodging the attempts of Lucius Malfoy to speak in private (of which there were few, but considerably more than should be appropriate given Harry's political standing being non-existent), learning old world traditions the like of which houses Black and Malfoy observed, and getting on with Draco a bit more than he would have expected possible considering their original relationship.

Vince and Goyle came over for his birthday as well as Daphne and Prefect Dodderidge, who insisted Harry called her Helena. All in all when term started for his second year of magical education, he felt like he was on a steadier foundation than he had started out on this time last year. But Harry also felt that he had been disregarding his duties to his father, which was completely unacceptable. The adults, he quickly discovered, were a biased source of information concerning his father's reign- especially those who had claimed to be loyal to him. And the books were turning out no better. While Daphne's suggestion of finding his own reliable source proved to be useful to sort through all the unscrupulous pieces of literature no better than a Skeeter article in the Daily Prophet, there was very little reputability to be found, written or otherwise.

"If you keep making that face you will start to look like Professor Snape. We do not want lines, Harry dear."

Harry glanced up at Daphne who sat across the way. The heiress had insisted that he sat with her for the first part of the trip to introduce himself into the upper years. So far he had been introduced to all the Slytherin fourth year girls and one Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws, all of whom had passed through to pay their respects to Daphne. Harry had been regulated to the same cooing and babytalk of an especially small child. He got the strong urge that all the girls he had met saw him as a puppy just as readily as Daphne did.

"Heir Greengrass, would it be acceptable if I take my leave?" he asked in his best pureblood voice, "It is about time I made my own appearance amongst my classmates."

In reality, Harry could care less personally if his absence amongst the second years for the train ride allowed others to get grand ideas on ousting him as the highest rank in their year. In fact he was hoping to test his newly minted conversational skills and court gossip he had been privy to at Lady Malfoy's side. She was positively invaluable as a teacher in the ways of a proper Heir and had a way of handling herself in a much more understated manner than Lucius Malfoy's blatant waving of his money and family name. It was unfortunate that Draco had taken his father's lead in his own political aspirations. No, what Harry wanted was to get away from the babytalk of all these girls. He felt like Daphne's prized pet being flaunted at afternoon tea. Considering the tea service that was being levitated around, he probably wasn't too far from the truth. "Oh must you go?" a brunette, Emilia Gladstone, a minor house twice removed from the Abbots, pouted at his announcement.

There was an immediate flurry of complaints from the other girls only to be silenced by a wave of Daphne's hand. "It is only proper that Harry holds court at least once before we are inundated with any newcomers," she addressed the others before turning to him. "Do be careful mon petit chou. I would hate to have to discipline a child if you were insulted in some way."

Harry narrowed his gaze at the slight. "I am more than capable of handling children," he hissed the last word to show how much he thought of her concern that he couldn't handle a couple of first and second years.

In the ever confusing fashion of girls, a vast majority of them broke into giggles and Daphne gave him that smile that Harry felt was a tad too patronizing to be honest. "Of course, my dear. Send my regards to Draco, shall you?"

Effectively dismissed, Harry quickly retreated from the cabin. Girls were absolutely crazy, he decided. He felt that Draco was truly unlucky to be promised a marriage with the Greengrass family if his betrothed was anything like her elder sister. Harry feared the day his father would have him promised to some wealthy heiress in a political marriage. He wondered if he could be an eternal bachelor without bringing dishonor onto his household? But then again, even the Dark Lord had sired an heir and although his mother had eventually fled his father's side, that was as indicative of what awaited Harry as anything. If nothing else, it was probably best to pass on the bloodline trait of parseltongue.

"Potter."

Harry had wandered into the back end of the train on his search for Draco, Vince, and Goyle only to run into Hermione Granger. "Granger," he greeted her.

He felt a confusing assortment of emotions concerning the Muggleborn girl. While he recognized the level of risk she had undertaken in her attempt to warn him last term, it had been based on unverified information and that was something a Slytherin could not afford. Harry had revealed to Lady Malfoy some of his secrets and she spoke with conviction how important it was that Harry had the proper information and resources before he acted. Any less and he was bound to make a mistake with far-reaching consequences not unlike his father's own.

She had never outright said as much, nor had Harry asked, but he got the feeling that she knew who his father was.

"You seem to be well," she sniffed with a frown on her lips.

Harry had no idea why she was even talking to him if she found the act so distasteful. As it were, he wasn't technically supposed to be talking to her anyway unless he wanted to form an alliance. But doing so right now with his spot in the hierarchy dependent on his relations with higher members he didn't really know would make it a risk he could not afford. "Good day Granger," he dismissed himself and didn't apologize at the huff of indignation she released before stomping away.

She wasn't all bad. Harry rather enjoyed the endless fountain of knowledge the girl seemed to possess in class. If anything, it gave Harry more sources for his own studies and with Draco's academic tenacity he could really use the leg up. Unfortunately Granger seemed to absorb the knowledge without concern for credibility and regurgitated entire texts. Harry was more a trial and error learner so the words in their books were hardly helpful to his application of their information. "What's with your face?"

"What face?" Harry asked as he was once again stopped in the hall. This time, it was Zabini.

He waved a hand to gesture at Harry. "The one you're making."

"It's my face Zabini. This is how it always looks."

The Italian snorted. "Oh I wouldn't go so far as to say that. You're not wearing those atrocious spectacles of yours and your hair looks like silk. Sleakeazy, I presume?"

Harry frowned. He detested Zabini almost for the same reason he was fond of Granger. He too was a fountain of knowledge, but where the Gryffindor quoted academic texts, Zabini had a horrid habit of learning the secrets of others and wielding it like an obsidian blade against them. If anyone wanted a trustworthy source of information, Zabini would be a good place to go, but the man was insidiously curious and the few times Harry had overheard anyone trying to make a deal with the boy the interested party had found themselves indebted to him giving away far more than they received in turn. Zabini had a silver-tongue and a way with people that hinted at some foreign branch of magic. Whatever it was, very few seemed to be deterred by it, Draco being one of them. Harry assumed it had something to do with Draco being proficient in occlumency.

"What room is Vince and Draco in?"

Zabini's smirk stayed plastered on his face and he tilted his head. "Are we ignoring one another now? I thought we were mates."

"Classmates and housemates. No more." Harry vowed.

He did not trust the Italian as far as he could throw him. Considering Harry was sure he couldn't even pick the other boy up, this was a fitting metaphor. "We should remedy that, Potter. Friends confide in one another and by the look on your face you have a terrible need of a confidant."

Harry bared his teeth in a snarl. One thing he could not stand no matter who it was was another person telling him what was best for him. "If I have a need for such a person you can be sure it will not be you. Furthermore there is very few people born to our lives that have another they should readily consider 'friend' and you can rest assured that such a title will not be bestowed upon the likes of you on my part."

Without so much as another word Harry stalked past Zabini. The boy was always poking and nagging at things that weren't his business and did it in just the right way to not violate any of the rules and ettiquetes of the high houses. It was probably a tactic he had learned from his mother (if Draco was to be believed) and Harry did not care for it one bit.

By the time he found his classmates he was in a foul mood and hid behind his potions text books for the remainder of the ride to school. Thankfully no one saw anything to be gained from bothering him further and left him be. His mood did improve with the knowledge that they were to ride the magic-driven carriages along with the other upperclassmen. "The view is rather impressive," Harry whispered. The carriage had no roof and gave them a nice view of Hogsmeade on one side and the Forbidden Forest on the other as they drew closer to the castle.

Vince smiled. "I thought you would have had enough of trees living at the Malfoy Manor all summer."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There's nothing as unruly as the forbidden forest on our lands. Everything that grows there does so under the strictest guidelines. Mother has the whole estate plotted off."

"It's more like a park than a forest and I was rarely allowed out on the grounds unless I was flying," Harry added to the conversation. "Not much time for exploring."

Draco looked at him askance. "What else would you do on the grounds besides fly?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't forget that he was different from the other heirs to noble lines, but this was a bit absurd. What type of boy their age didn't go running about outside all hours of the day? Harry might have done it out of necessity to avoid his cousin, but it was common enough he had thought. Then again, most people didn't have houses twice the size of his primary to live in. Draco probably got more than enough exercise running around the halls of his own home.

"Where are we going?"

Goyle's voice broke him out of his thoughts. While the two carriages in front of them and the one behind had continued around the bend of the hill towards the main entrance, their carriage had taken the side path that led towards Hagrid's hut. And the Forbidden Forest. "Maybe it's a prank?" Draco guessed as he looked over the side.

Harry couldn't see any use for such a prank. Unless the carriage continued into the forest... "Does anyone know a stopping spell?"

"I know the incantation," Vince answered. "But I've never been able to cast it. It's a fifth year spell and we haven't learned all the proper wand movements yet."

"It wouldn't really work anyway," Goyle pointed out. "Since the carriage is pulled by thestrals and not magic."

Harry glanced between Vince and Draco. Neither seemed to understand what Goyle was talking about either. "What?" Harry asked.

"Thestrals. They're like a nightmare version of Abraxans, all skin and bone. My father says most people can't see them." Goyle shrugged. "I can."

Harry glanced back to the front of the carriage. "Invisible flying horses? Why wasn't that in Hogwarts: A History?"

"Focus Harry," Draco snapped. "We're being abducted before we can even get to school. I bet this is another attempt by the Ministry to upset father."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I doubt the Minister of Magic would codone kidnapping second years."

Draco had been unbearable the last week of their summer hols. The ministry had been raiding a lot of the older pureblood houses and the Malfoy's had not been exempt. Lucius was furious and had traded acerbic words with Arthur Weasley, the Ministry employee in charge of the search. Harry thought the man was doing very little to end the centuries old feud between their two houses.

"Well we can't expect everyone in the Ministry to have the good sense to listen to my father."

Harry rolled his eyes harder. The Dark Lord was twice as cunning, three times as brilliant, and infinitely more powerful than Lucius Abraxas Malfoy could even dream of being but you didn't hear Harry going on and on about his father's greatness. By Morgana's grace, Draco practically waxed poetic about his sire. Vince shook his head once in warning. Almost reflexively Harry relaxed his face into an appropriate mask. He had gotten better about masking his irritation, but that hardly helped when it came to Draco. It was like the boy was purposely trying to get Harry to hex him.

"We could jump," Goyle said. "The carriage isn't moving very fast. With a featherlight charm we should be fine."

Only a few seconds more was wasted before the other three agreed to Goyle's plan. Draco jumped first, followed swiftly by Harry, Goyle, and Vince. The carriage continued on down the path.

"Well that was exciting," Harry drawled sarcastically.

"Yes and now we'll be late for the welcoming feast. Upperclassmen don't have long to be seated before the first years arrive," Draco said.

Vince grinned. "Then we best hurry up."

Almost as if they were thinking the same thing Goyle and Harry took off at a run up the hill towards the castle. There was the expected shouts of complaint from behind them from Draco, but soon after other footsteps could be heard following their path. Harry grinned and whooped loudly as they raced forward. Goyle laughed to his left and there were answering sounds of excitement at his back. Harry couldn't recall the last time that he had just run. It appeared that the simple act was indeed something that stretched across the magical and muggle divide because when they finally reached the Great Hall, having bound up the steps at an equally fast speed, all four of them were giggling and wheezing in the same gasping breaths.

"You're... horrible... Harry," Draco groaned at his place leaned up against the nearest wall. "We didn't have to run... the entire way."

"It builds character," Goyle grinned.

Harry snickered and went about fixing his appearance. Lady Malfoy had made sure he had known a series of spells specifically tailored for one's appearance. He cleaned his skin of sweat, removed the stains from the grass, released the wrinkles in his attire, and cast an added freshness charm that reminded him of old parchment. The others were casting similar charms, although Draco conjured a mirror to fix his hair. "You can do complete conjuration?" Harry asked impressed.

It wasn't a talent that even third years were well versed in. Draco waved one hand in his direction. "Yes, yes. Only the necessities," he said before conjuring a comb as well.

Harry snorted. A mirror and comb were necessities to him, were they? Goyle snickered and turned to walk towards the Great Hall and froze. Harry could actually see the blood drain from his face. Harry feared to turn and dicover why, but knew he must.

The answer was obvious. Death approached; or what could arguably be an apparition of it.

Professor Snape was storming down the stairs in a flurry of black robes darker than their own and a scowl that brought the memory of his anger from last term to the front of Harry's mind. All four Slytherins flinched as they awaited the fury of their Head of House. "Where have you four been? You did not arrive with the other students nearly fifteen minutes ago."

No one spoke. No one wanted to accept the full might of that black gaze. Harry thought that if he were to speak the man would strike him down with his gaze alone. Draco eventually gathered the requisite courage. "The carriage was being hexed. It didn't come to the entrance and was taking us towards the forbidden forest."

The man's gaze narrowed and he whipped to Harry. Harry flinched at the animosity to be found there, so much worse than anything the man had ever shown to any other student. "And how did that happen?" he hissed.

This made anger swell up in Harry's chest. The accusation alone would be enough to warrant his ire, but the fact that the man would think so little of him- that he would dare to infer Harry would place his allies in danger once again after the almost disastrous conclusion of the third floor corridor fiasco... Harry brought up his occlumency shields, his mask, his magic. He clouded himself in layer upon layer of mist until he couldn't even feel the echo of his anger. Then he met his head of houses' gaze. "I am not skilled in anything advanced enough to affect thestrals although I am sure you will do everything in your power to discover how four of your students were almost abducted off of school grounds."

Professor Snape sneered and turned away in a flurry of robes. Harry was too numb to sneer back, but recognized that he did want to. If Professor Snape was going to continue to be an arse even after delivering punishment for an act committed impulsively by an eleven year old boy then Harry felt he had no need to act any differently. He wouldn't be so foolish as to antagonize the man in his classroom, but respect was earned and his head of house was doing everything in his power to lose all the respect Harry had felt for the man last year. "Come and be seated. You have held up the feast long enough."

It did not improve Harry's souring mood that when they did finally enter the Great Hall, the first years hadn't even arrived yet and more to the point, only about a third of the students had settled into their seats. "I see the Professor is still angry," Goyle said. "He's being mean to Harry still."

Draco sniffed as he sat down pompously on Harry's left. "Yes, well. I'm sure that he was simply worried after our well-being."

"And he reacts with anger and accusation when confronted by such emotions?" Vince asked.

Emotionally constipated would be the term Harry would use, but if he were to speak on it, he was sure to lose the numbness of his mask. Instead he ate his meal in silence, a fact noticed by those nearest to him. Daphne and Helena fell upon him like avenging angels as soon as he entered the common room after the Welcoming Feast. "Who has dared to cross you?" Daphne spoke with a quiet intensity.

"Do we need to start throwing hexes out indiscriminately?" Helena grinned.

Draco and Nott took several hurried steps away from them and towards the second year's rooms. No one ever took it as a joke when the girls started threatening to hex someone. "That will not be necessary," Harry spoke through the levels he had wrapped around him.

He felt indebted to Lady Malfoy for teaching him this technique. "Not even back a full night and already you have the ladies flocking to you. You must tell me your secret Potter."

And here came another that would test his patience. "Zabini."

The Italian had grown over the summer and now stood an inch or so taller than Harry. This was only noticeable as the annoying prat was only a foot away from him. "Nothing you haven't already learned, I'm sure."

Zabini's smile tightened around the edges, but Harry's mask remained in place. He had overheard Mrs. Parkinson tittering about Serafina De'Amore and her scandalously long list of deceased husbands. It had taken Harry a few minutes to realize that she had been talking about Zabini's mother, but once he had, Harry had paid even more careful attention. Most of it was gossip, but even that had its use in deterring pests. "You're looking as lovely as every Heiress Greengrass," Zabini quickly changed subjects.

Harry grinned internally. Point for Harry. This would only further Zabini's belief that Harry did not trust him, which he didn't. The only person that strove to know more secrets was the Headmaster and no sensible Slytherin would ever trust Albus Dumbledore.

Harry paid whatever pleasantry Daphne replied with no mind as he continued towards his dorm room. It wasn't required that the upper years attend their Head of Houses' welcome speech as any pertinent information would be spread by the prefects. Seeing as Harry couldn't see the professor's scowl without wanting to bear his teeth in challenge, it was best he went to bed early. Something told him that potions was going to be a nightmare this year.

* * *

**A/N: One of my favorite things about being a reader of UA and AU fanfictions (Universe Alterations and Alternate Universes, respectively) is to read the author add more to a part of the canon world that wasn't heavily visited within the series. For the Harry Potter fandom, this tends to be pureblood households and some more orthodox practices that the more traditionalist houses would potentially practice. Like I'm not saying all wizarding families didn't practice Christmas, but it seems rather silly to expect the older houses to practice something that is probably originally a "Muggle holiday". Some of the oldest generation of magical folk can probably remember a time when their grandparents or great-grandparents didn't practice the holiday (if we consider that a magical lifespan is somewhere in the ballpark of 170 years (or reasonably double of a Muggle's life span)). So I play around with traditions of these older households and other silly rules and whatnot they would observe.**

**But, otherwise, this was a good stopping point for this chapter and it offers a lot of extra information. Severus and Harry will be butting heads the entire year, so don't expect anything different in the next few chapters. This chapter rounded out a little north of 7500 words so it's one of the bigger chapters thus far. Tom is marked to show up soon so look forward to future updates.**

**À la prochaine~**


	8. Chapter 8

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

"Absolutely not."

"I wasn't asking permission, Draco."

But of course Draco wasn't going to take that lying down. The blond crossed his arms and lifted his nose in his version of a forceful pose. "Harry, you can't possibly go. It's the Gryffindor ghost."

"What's all this then?" Nott asked as he flopped down on the bed farthest from the door, probably hiding from Helena.

Draco waved his hand towards Harry. "This one was given an invitation to Nearly Headless Nick's Death Day celebration and is actually going to go!"

The blond said it as if it was a crime. Harry rolled his eyes. "No one is going to stop me, least of all you."

"Harry I'm trying to stop you from political suicide, here. How can you begin to think-Vince-Vince! Please tell him he cannot possibly go!"

The boy in question had only just entered their dorm room with Goyle and arched a concerned eyebrow at Draco's raised voice. "Go where?" Goyle asked into the sudden silence.

"Sir Nicolas' Death Day party," Harry answered.

"Oh," Vince set down his bag with a smile. "That sounds pretty fun. When are we going?"

"We are not going to a party hosted by the Gryffindor ghost," Draco hissed.

"You don't have to," Harry reminded the blond for the third time. "But I would like to. It would give me something to do."

"You could go to dinner like normal," Nott pointed out from Goyle's bed.

Harry shook his head. 'Why is everyone so invested in this to begin with? I was the one invited, not them.' "It is on Samhain. I would prefer to go to the ghost party."

"Now I know you've gone mad," Draco continued to flail about dramatically. (He did have a talent for such a thing, Harry noted internally. It was a trait inherited from his father because Lady Malfoy would never react in such an overstated manner.) "The Samhain feast at Hogwarts is almost as good as the Yuletide spread mother prepares every year. They'll have every flavor pudding imaginable and biscuits shaped like pumpkins."

"And cupcakes," Goyle added.

"And cupcakes!" Draco tacked onto his tirade.

Harry didn't want to say it, but Draco was missing the obvious. By Vince's pointed silence, he already understood. "My mother lost her life on Samhain eleven years ago."

The rest of the dorm room was silent. Harry had wanted to avoid this right here. 'The Look' Daphne called it. It was what everyone directed at someone who had lost a parent. A bit of pity, a bit of guilt, and a whole lot of relief that they aren't in his place. Draco gave it one more try, though. Harry had once heard him described as persistent to the point of folly and thought it was an apt assessment but one could just as easily say he was just a stubborn prat. "Well I don't think you should allow something that happened over a decade ago to affect you so much. You have to keep living your life Harry. And besides, it's not like you even remember what-"

"I have pensieve memories of my mother growing up. Before I was given those, my only memory of her was of her pleading with the Dark Lord to not take me from her. I remember her scream as she died."

Even Draco didn't dare try to continue his protests in light of Harry's admission. While the mindscape he was able to form thanks to his occlumency lessons from Lady Malfoy had allowed him to recall things he had thought impossible to remember, the discovery of that particular memory had made him physically ill and put an early end to his lessons. Lucius Malfoy had been more than a tad too nosy in inquiring about the sudden lack of occlumency lessons.

"Lily Evans, may she rest in peace."

Harry's gaze snapped to Vince. He had made the odd hand gesture that Helena had told him warded off ill thoughts. It looked a bit like he was swatting at a fly at his head and his chest, but the prefect had informed him it was to signify the mind's eye and then one's magical core, the two most dangerous places to be poisoned. Goyle, Nott, and Draco quickly followed his lead, muttering their own "May she rest in peace", although Draco's was spoken with a wrinkled nose. It wasn't the action itself that had caught Harry so off guard, although it was notable that a room full of heirs of pureblood houses (two of which were of the sacred twenty-eight) had just blessed a muggleborn in death. No, what had truly floored Harry and made a rock lodge in his throat was the fact that Vincent had called her Lily Evans. Evans was the name that the Lily that belonged to Lord Voldemort had. Was the name of his mother before she fled his father's empire.

The name he would have carried if he, too, had been raised as he was supposed to. Within the shadows cast by his monster father greater than life and at the side of his star mother, a brilliant beacon in the Dark. Harry could only imagine what it must've done to his father to be betrayed by the woman he loved. (But then Harry had to wonder 'did she betray him'? What had happened to his parents that had led to his father killing his mother?)

But those thoughts were a rabbit hole he would never find his way out of. He had spent more than a few sleepless nights mulling over the fate of his parents' relationship. Of what his life could have been like if only... "Have you heard that the Department of Magical Games and Sports have been meeting with the Department of International Magical Cooperation a lot this past year?" Goyle asked, finally breaking the somber mood that had fallen on the room.

"Ludovic Bagman is the Head, right?" Nott jumped in with a grin. "He played on the national team for three years. I even have his rookie poster with the Wasps."

"Father says he can't be trusted with the contents of his own purse. He's a notorious gambler. Has racked up quite a bit of debt with the goblins too."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. The way Draco always spoke of Lucius Malfoy, with such emphasis on the man's greatness, had always rubbed him the wrong way. It absolutely reeked of child worship. Lady Malfoy was by far the better of the two for him to idolize yet she seemed content to remain an idle thought in Draco's subconscious. Harry looked forward to the day where he could rub Draco's nose in the fact that Harry's father was a monster and thus infinitely better than some simple human. (Of course he would be sure not to say 'my father' this and 'my father' that. There was nothing more annoying than sentences that started with those two words coming from the blond. Perhaps Harry would simply call him 'the Dark Lord'.) "Those are vicious rumors Draco Malfoy!" Nott screeched, his voice cracking in his distress.

Vincent chuckled but Goyle and Harry burst out into uncontrolled laughter. Nott was the only one of their year to show signs of puberty and was ribbed ruthlessly for it. Already Millicent Bulstrode had pointed it out in the middle of charms yesterday. Professor Flitwick's insistence that it was "perfectly normal" and "nothing to be ashamed of" only made him redder in the face. (Bulstrode had miraculously turned up with a bat bogey hex to lunch and no one could prove Nott had anything to do with it. Harry had his money on Helena.)

"I wouldn't go so far as to call them rumors. My uncle works in his department under the dueling branch and says the man will place bets on just about anything," Vincent said.

Harry perked up at the mention of the mysterious Alistair Crabbe, Lord Crabbe's younger brother. The man placed first three years running in the British dueling championships and third internationally this past year. He was only twenty-seven at that! "Is Lord Alistair going to attend the Malfoy Yule Ball?" Harry asked.

He had wanted to meet the man since learning about him over the summer. Vince shrugged. "I doubt it. The Ministry likes to send him out on diplomatic delegations with other ministries. He's bound to be in America or Japan or some other place for Yule."

"We were talking about quidditch and you lot want to talk about dueling," Nott whined.

"No, you were talking about Quidditch. You should try out for the team since you're so keen on the sport." Draco looked like he wanted to hex Nott for insinuating his father gave out bad information.

"Our chasers are too good and I don't have the build for a beater."

"Bully for you then."

The conversation devolved from there. Vince said it was a blond thing- they couldn't stand one another and constantly bickered. Harry thought that someone's hair color had no weight on whether they got along or not. (Both Dudley and Aunt Petunia had yellow hair and got along famously. She spoiled him rotten at any chance she had and capitulated to his whims at the first sign of a sniffle whether he was truly upset or not.)

If they weren't due out to lunch soon the two would have probably started trading hexes. It had been Bulstrode peaking in that had finally ended the topic on why Nott was better off not trying out for their quidditch team. "I'm going to sign up on the roster as soon as we return to the common room," Nott vowed as he stormed off further down the table.

Harry smirked. "Wasn't he arguing against trying out to begin with?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You've seen Nott fly. He could make reserve Keeper blindfolded and Flint is better as a Beater anyway. I'm pretty sure the only reason he's Keeper is to better compare statistics with Wood."

Those two were probably the most quidditch obsessed people in the school (besides Professor McGonogall, that is). This had come in useful last term when the mistakes Harry had made in his attempt to steal the philosopher's stone had almost ended with Vince and Draco's death and resulted in a total of one-hundred fifty points being lost from his house. Slytherin had lost the house cup for the first time in nearly seven years but Wood's one-track obsession with Quidditch had effectively waylaid any retribution that would have come from the fifth year. "It's you, isn't it?!"

Harry glanced up at the squeaked exclamation only to be immediately blinded by a flash of lightning. His brain short-circuited at the sudden blindness and reverted back to his instincts. Harry was crouched down with his arms covering his head in an instant, tucking his knees firmly into his chest as to make a smaller target. The first blow was much softer than he expected, but Uncle Vernon was a brute of a human and four times the size of any wizard he had seen except Hagrid. (Harry was reluctantly thankful that Hagrid saw no reason to discipline him and was rather nice.) "Harry?!"

He clutched tighter in his ball at the shout. Nothing good ever came from his name being shouted. "Cease this spectacle at once, Potter!"

With the newest voice a bucket of cold water drenched Harry and he uncurled from his ball. He didn't need to protect his head here. This was a magical school. Any attacks would come from magic or rumors. Rumors that were sure to go spreading because of his stupid reflexes. He glanced up (and up and up) at Professor Snape to see him flanked by Vince, Draco, and some mousy first year in Gryffindor robes. "That... was really bright..." Harry said, having no better lie in such short notice, "I thought my eyes were burning out of their sockets."

Professor Snape looked unimpressed and turned away with a sneer. Harry scowled after his head of house. Honestly, what was wrong with the man? So Harry had almost gotten Vincent and Draco seriously hurt? The Weasley twins are always pulling some insane pranks and Seamus Finnigan creates an explosion in class at least once a month. Professor McGonogall didn't treat them this way! "Are you okay?" Draco asked with a frown and an outheld hand.

Harry accepted the aid but waved his concern away. Before he could avert attention he was bombarded by the same squeaky voice. "You're Harry Potter!"

He blinked down at the straw-haired child in surprise. Harry wasn't exactly short, but he was far from the tallest in his year. The fact that this Gryffindor was almost a full four inches shorter than him was notable. He was so tiny! "And you are?" he asked when the first year showed no sign of ceasing his bouncing.

"Oh. I'm Colin Creevey! I'm a first year Gryffindor but only because the hat wouldn't put me in Slytherin."

Draco looked skeptical of the exuberant introduction. "You wanted to sort into Slytherin? I don't recognize your family name..."

The bouncing ball of energy only beamed further. "Of course I wanted to sort Slytherin. It's Harry Potter's house! Crushed, I was, when the hat shouted 'Gryffindor!'"

Vince, Harry, and Draco flinched as the kid actually screamed the house name. There were a few resounding cheers of the house name from its table and a couple of shouts that sounded more like howls than actual cheers as well. Draco rolled his eyes. "Plebeians," he muttered under his breath.

"But then I figured that Harry Potter wouldn't care that I was a Gryffindor no how since his parents were Gryffindors."

Harry's lips thinned in his attempt to not frown. "Of course. If you will excuse us Mister Creevey, we best be off."

He hadn't eaten yet and by the look of Goyle's pleading gaze at the platter of meat neither had he, but Draco had already gotten his sugar cravings out early in the meal and wouldn't complain too terribly for the early leave. "Vince, you and Goyle can catch up to us when you're done."

Draco readily agreed and made a beeline for the entrance. Harry grabbed an apple and two slices of bread before following him, stuffing it all in a napkin and in his robe pockets (which he was very pleased were so spacious and made keeping stashes of food substantially easier). "What was that about?" Draco asked as they left the Great Hall.

Harry shrugged. The kid was a tad annoying, if harmless enough. But somehow still Harry felt that the excitable first year signified some ill portend on the horizon. Nothing good would come from his reaction to the boy during lunch.

By the time Harry reached Defense lessons that day he was sure of it. Gilderoy Lockhart was a pretentious peacock, as Harry had expected from reading his stupid books. What he wasn't prepared for was the extreme levels of incompetency and insistence on manhandling Harry to and fro all in the name of tutoring him in the way of his fame. Vince and Draco had a lark at his expense until the buffoon let loose a cage of cornish pixies and then hid away in his office. It was Granger's quick wandwork that had ultimately calmed down the mayhem, but not before Longbottom had ended up hung from the chandelier. Thanks to their carriage mishap at the start of term Harry was able to cast a featherlight charm on him and another levitation spell to return the Longbottom heir back to the ground. Lockhart didn't appear once until right before the bell rang and the rest of them had gotten the pixies back into their cages. The only good thing to come of the whole fiasco was that his allies stopped glancing at him speculatively.

Draco in particular was furious. "I can't believe father allowed such a man to teach us! He's a fraud," the blond strutted down the corridor in a complete and utter tizzy.

For once Harry was in agreement about something involving the Malfoy patriarch. Lucius Malfoy was many things, but he didn't seem like he would neglect any of his political responsibilities. Being on the governor's board was amongst the most important presently and it was the governor's that were in charge of overseeing Hogwarts not the Ministry. "Are you sure the board is responsible for hiring professors?" Vince asked. "I was under the impression that their power was more limited to changes in curriculum."

"Then perhaps they should do something about the curriculum in History of Magic," Goyle added.

Harry smiled. Even if the governors weren't directly responsible for hiring decisions, surely allowing the same material to be covered every year was something they could affect. Harry had been looking forward to a year without Goblin wars and rebellions only to be sorely disappointed. Draco sniffed. "I'm sure father has done everything he possibly could about Binns. It's that Dumbledore meddling were he shouldn't again."

"Hear, hear," chorused Goyle and Harry.

Slytherin house, almost as a rule, distrusted the twinkle-eyed Headmaster. The man was unnaturally biased to gryffindors as a whole (not that Professor Snape wasn't the same way, but it was substantially different for your head of house to favor you instead of your bloody Headmaster). It also didn't help that Albus Dumbledore was a declared Light Lord and the head of the Wizegamot while the vast majority of Slytherins were from gray or dark families.

"I will send a letter to father immediately. Even if he wasn't responsible for hiring that buffoon, I'm sure he can get him fired."

"Does the board even have-"

"Harry!"

The group of boys turned to see an increasingly familiar head of curly straw-blond hair jumping through the mass of bodies in the corridor. Harry groaned. "Is that the gryffindor from this morning?" Goyle asked.

"Don't make eye contact," Harry said as he turned around, ignoring the second and third call of his name. That presumptuous twit wasn't given the liberty to use it and yet he was shouting it left and right.

Vince glanced back as they turned the corner. "He's still chasing after us."

Harry clenched his teeth. "Doesn't he have classes to get to? Merlin's beard this kid is mad..."

Draco smirked. "I think it's a riot. He might even start a fanclub for you, Harry."

Harry's glare only strengthened. "Don't you dare, Malfoy," he warned.

That warning was all for naught. Despite being allies and maybe even whatever constituted as friends amongst Slytherins, Draco's random observation had fallen on the wrong ears within the hour. "I've heard you've got yourself a fanclub Potter."

Harry sent a quick prayer to Morgana, Merlin, and the great Salazar Slytherin to give him patience. Between the professor, his new Gryffindor stalker, Lockhart, and Zabini- someone was truly testing his monster heritage. He imagined a better monster would have went on a killing rampage by now, the likes of which required angry mobs and pitchforks to be brought out.

But reacting that way wouldn't aid his father's return and that was ultimately what Harry was working towards. "I've heard your mother has a new boyfriend."

It was a low blow, but Harry was bitter and was having a shitty term. If Zabini was going to continue this crusade against him (for what reason Harry knew not) then Harry had no reason to be civil. They had no formal contract between one another and with the way Zabini was going Harry would be forced to declare a feud by the time they graduate. Besides, he could have said plenty worse things. "Yes. He seems like a nice enough bloke. Hasn't asked me to call him father yet so I doubt it's very serious."

Harry frowned. He thought it was a little ridiculous that anyone would expect that from someone they had just met. Father was a title bestowed upon one's sire not because of their relation with the mother, but because of the respect he garnered. "What has this man done to earn your regard?" Harry asked.

Maybe the man was someone well known? Zabini's incredulous expression indicated that wasn't exactly true. "'Earn my regard?' Potter, do you even know the type of blokes my mother tends to attract?"

Harry shrugged. All he knew about Lady Coppola was based off of gossip he heard from others. It was a completely unreliable source of information and all he could trust was that she was a beautiful woman with a long list of deceased husbands, both facts of which were irrefutable. Zabini shook his head. "Lord Caron is third in line for the D'Havincort marquis. He has more years than brain cells and a wealth that he uses to maintain his flamboyantly lavish lifestyle."

Nothing in all of that sounded like what one could assume to be a glowing endorsement and perhaps that was the point. If Harry was marrying people for their vaults, he would choose idiots as victims as well (although he wasn't sure how Lady Coppola avoided the wrath of the deceaseds' family). Which probably meant that Zabini would be forced to interact with those types of men often in the name of his mother's lust.

Harry felt a little sorry for the taller boy. If he wasn't so much of a bastard all the time, Harry might have actually acted upon the new revelation. As it was, the boy had a horrid habit of opening his mouth and ruining whatever good will anyone might have for him. "So when's the next meeting for your fanclub? I hear they have posters and everything. You're a proper celebrity now Potter- Professor Lockhart is so proud, I'm sure."

Harry wasn't even slightly apologetic for the jinx he used to stick Zabini to the corridor wall. If the other was late to class it was his own fault. Perhaps he would learn to mind his tongue, though Harry much doubted it. He was only a little sorry that Zabini missed most of dinner (roast chicken was the main course and although it was the best thing Harry had ever tasted, it had also left his stomach rolling). By the time the Slytherins had to make the trek to astronomy class after dinner he felt a lot less sorry. (Zabini had pointed out that Harry had not brought his telescope and he was forced to go all the way down to their common room just to grab the unwieldy thing and half run, half wheeze his way to the top of the astronomy tower. The moving staircases had changed three times on his way back up and he had almost fallen off of them twice trying to re-route. He had to take a break on the fourth floor to vomit. Roast chicken didn't taste half as good coming up as it did going down.)

With his stomach empty he felt marginally better if not a tad more tired. He'd have to steer clear of pretty much everything that was provided at meal times tomorrow. (Maybe he'd be able to stomach some unbuttered toast and water...) If the astronomy class wasn't at the top of a tower he wouldn't have thrown up to begin with. It couldn't be too hard to use the same charm the Great Hall did to look at the sky on a smaller scale. Or better yet, just use the Great Hall for the class. "So how is it you got invited to a ghost's Death Day party anyway?" Vince asked around the time they were finishing up for the night.

Harry got the impression that magical adults were kind of stupid if for no other reason than because rather than charming a ceiling with constellations or something reasonable like that so that classes could commence during the normal school day, all Astronomy classes ranged from nine pm to eleven at night on the top of one of their towers. When his father took over the world, this was the first thing Harry was going to ask him to change. "Harry."

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement, but continued readjusting his telescope. He was pretty sure that muggles had fancier versions of these antiquated contraptions they had first years buy. "Morgana, Harry, where's your head?"

"Somewhere in the vicinity of ursa minor, I reckon," he grumbled before pulling away. "I've found the stupid bear which means I'm done for the night."

"You were the last person to find Ursa minor," Draco snipped two telescopes down.

Harry glowered at him, but didn't answer the remark. It was true enough, and besides the blond was always irritable when he stayed up late. Draco was the first one to turn in for the night in their room and only just beat Greg and Nott out of bed the next morning. Why he needed ten hours of sleep was beyond Harry, but the boy's reactions to getting any less made it obvious this was a necessity and not a luxury. He turned back to Vincent who had already packed up his telescope. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"The party, Harry," Vince said with the nose eyebrow twitch that showed he was trying to repress an eyeroll. "How'd you end up invited?"

"Yes Potter, do inform your eager audience."

Harry had to swallow his reflexive groan. If he never saw Zabini again it would be too soon. The boy was nosier this term, if that was even possible. Completely ignoring the Italian, Harry nodded at Vince. "I asked."

Feeling that answered the question effectively enough, he began taking down his telescope. He wished he had had the foresight to buy a case with an expansion charm on it like Draco and Nott. It made the task of carrying it back to their dorms a lot easier (being all the way in the dungeons, it was already a nightmare of a journey). "You asked?" Zabini repeated as if it was a great joke, "Nearly Headless Nick?"

"Of course. It is his party. It would be improper to receive an invitation through a third party as their plus one, especially considering that my kind rarely attend such events."

Monsters in stories didn't get along with other creatures like ghosts, vampires, and werewolves. They were too territorial, too selfish, too prideful (with all good reason as monsters were much stronger than anything else). It was remarkably progressive of Sir Nicolas to invite a monster to his Death Day party, even a child monster, like Harry. "Your kind?" Zabini questioned.

"Obviously you can't have the living just inviting themselves to a Death Day party," Draco sniffed, seeming to have finished his own constellation chart, "It's like inviting a Muggleborn to a Samhain ceremony."

Harry thought that this wasn't the same thing. Muggleborns had deceased loved ones they would probably like to commune with if they were taught how. (Another thing he was going to ask his father to rectify when he returned to power.) Rather than pointing out Draco was wrong (which Harry enjoyed very much, but knew would be akin to declaring war when the blond was already cranky from the late hour) Harry lugged his telescope up and turned back to Vince. "Is Helena escorting us back to the dorms this time?"

"My cousin isn't on the rotation chart this month for Astronomy duty. Prefect McGregor is escorting us." Nott said.

Prefect McGregor turned out to be this giant of a bloke with arms as thick as Harry was wide and a nasty scowl that reminded him of Marcus Flint. (He was their team beater, Harry discovered on the walk back thanks to Nott's excitable nature about all things quidditch.) The gruff seventh year wasn't nearly as likeable as Helena- an attempt at polite conversation had resulted in Zabini being hexed in the arm- and the italian had been on his best behaviour (or what constituted as such for the likes of him). Harry was all too pleased to reach their common room and as was customary amongst their dorm room, everyone merely crashed into their beds after astronomy (Draco, notably, without even taking off his school robe; he would be extra irritable in the morning when he had to ask Nott for laundering charms to get out the wrinkles in it or risk sending it to the school elves which were notorious for laundering the clothes with girly scents).

As expected, Draco awoke with a complaint. "Why did you let me sleep in my robe, Harry!?"

"I told you to take it off. You're lucky Vince and Goyle were able to get your shoes off. I gave up after the things tried to bite me."

The fluffy-haired blond sniffed. "You were probably handling them incorrectly."

"Only a lunatic charms their shoes to bite whoever tries to take them off," Vince said.

"Or a genius," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile that lifted the corner of his lips. Draco Malfoy was rather horrid to those he decided were beneath him and a pompous git to those that were worth his time. But to those that he trusted or respected he didn't bother with the layers of subterfuge that the Malfoy family were known for and turned out to be rather likeable. "Well Mister Genius, you best start getting ready if you plan on eating breakfast. Classes start in an hour," Harry said, reaching for his own toiletries and heading for the door.

Malfoy waved a hand after him and Vince. Since no one had bothered showering the night before it was necessary that everyone washed this morning. But when one roomed with a Malfoy, that became substantially more difficult. There were two private bathrooms to share and Draco was going to take up one on his own for an indefinite amount of time. Zabini taking the second longest to get ready in the morning was afforded the second bathroom with Nott and Goyle, who took the shortest out of all of them. That left Harry and Vincent as the average and left to shower elsewhere. Harry usually just used the first year's shower while Vincent had a cousin who was a fourth year and showered there. All of this could have been avoided if Draco was capable of getting out of the bathroom in less than thirty minutes. (Under fifteen minutes preferably, but the blond was hardly reasonable when it came to personal grooming.)

This resulted in Zabini, Nott, and Goyle making it to breakfast with enough time to eat before they had to return to the dungeons for double potions. Draco, Vincent, and Harry had to sneak into the kitchen in order to grab something because there was no way they were going to make it to the Great Hall and back to the dungeons in only ten minutes (Draco had apparently needed the extra five minutes to set his hair properly). This left them entering the potions room just as soon as last bell rang.

"Punctuality, Mister Potter," Snape snapped as they made their way to their seats. "Learn the word."

Harry frowned. He wasn't late. And more to the point, Draco and Vince were coming in with him! Vincent cleared his throat and Harry tried to calm his mind. "It won't happen again professor."

"Really?" the man lengthened the word as if Harry hadn't been early to every single potions class before this one.

Harry had to bite his tongue. He went to his seat with Draco's conflicted gaze on his back the entire way. Honestly he was lucky that the professor hadn't gotten to the point were he disliked Harry enough to assign partners and make Harry work with a Gryffindor. Small mercies, he supposed.

"Now that we are no longer waiting for others to arrive I can start my lecture."

Harry's eyebrow twitched in irritation. Just everything about that sentence was so far beneath the professor that it was laughable that the man had even said something so juvenile. Even the Gryffindors received wittier snark. "Perhaps he's having a bad day," Draco whispered to him as writing began to appear on the board.

"You mean a bad term? He hates me."

"That isn't true," Draco insisted. "You were one of his favorites last term."

"Yeah. Last term. Before I almost got his godson killed, thanks for warning me about that by the way!" Harry hissed back.

"Am I boring you, Mister Potter?"

Harry and Draco lurched from one another where they had been whispering to one another. Snape's gaze, when Harry looked to the front of the classroom, was nowhere near his blond classmate. "No professor."

"Then perhaps you could inform the class what ten colors the draught of peace turns while being prepared and after which ingredients."

Draco must have choked on air because he began coughing rather dramatically in the seat next to him. Harry for his part felt not only betrayed but rightfully pissed off. The draught of peace was an OWL level potion and wasn't even discussed until their fifth year. A glance at the board showed that they were discussing sleeping draughts and forgetfulness potions. A case could be made that they were simply going over several examples of potions that affected the mind but this was ridiculous. And anyone who cared to pay attention to their curriculum would know it. "Professor Snape," Granger began from her seat in the front of the Gryffindor side of the room. "We haven't covered-"

"You will speak when spoken to."

Her mouth immediately snapped shut but not before she flushed in embarrassment. Harry's ire rose and he glared at the professor in turn. If the man was going to continue to play this game then Harry would not make it easy for him. "Adding powdered moonstone to an alkaline base will turn the potion green. Once it has changed to blue you add more powdered moonstone until it turns purple. The potion will turn pink indicating it is time to add the syrup of hellebore until it turns turquoise. It will eventually turn purple again. Adding porcupine quills will turn it red, orange, turquoise, and then purple again at which point you add powdered unicorn horn turning the potion pink and then eventually red."

Harry paused trying to remember the last few steps. He knew it turned orange somewhere in the end before it came out as the finished white color, but he knew there were more changes before that. (He had seen Lady Malfoy brew it twice that summer to help treat the nightmares he had been plagued with upon recalling his mother's demise.) "It turns purple... after simmering for several minutes. Three measures of moonstone is adequate to turn it grey and then allow it to simmer until it turns orange. You will have to add anywhere from seven to twelve measures of powdered porcupine quill to it depending on the size of your cauldron to turn it white."

Harry thought for a moment more then shrugged. "You're supposed to add hellebore essence to it after that, but that doesn't change the color so I suppose you wouldn't particularly care about that. Considering it is an OWL level potion, it's rather impressive you are having us study it so early. Sir."

Snape's gaze narrowed before he turned back to the chalk board. Just when Harry thought he had been spared yet another snarky comment the professor's voice called from the front of the room. "You were incorrect in one of your ingredients. You use powdered porcupine quills throughout the entirety of the brew not only at its conclusion. Furthermore you did not emphasize that some of the color changes occurred due to simmering of the potion and not an addition of an ingredient. Two points from Slytherin."

"What?!" Draco gasped.

Harry bared his teeth at the man. He was taking points because Harry hadn't precisely memorized a potion he didn't need to know for another three years and shouldn't haven't even known in the first place! Snape's gaze remained unwaveringly on Harry just waiting for him to say something. Instead of asking what by the gods was wrong with him, Harry merely picked up his quill and began taking notes from the board. Ultimately it wasn't a lot of points and really shouldn't matter. But it was Professor Snape taking points from his own house and that mattered.

Throughout the entirety of their brewing of the forgetfulness potion the man continued his crusade against Harry awarding points to Draco, Nott, or Zabini to offset the ones he was taking from Harry in turn. Even Longbottom didn't receive half as much attention and his cauldron had been overturned whilst he was trying to bottle up a sample. Harry, who had been done by now and was almost done cleaning up was immediately blamed. "Couldn't bother to stop Longbottom from spilling his potion, Mister Potter? Another point from Slytherin."

Harry set his cauldron down with a loud thunk and turned to the man. "Why? Because I'm not a seer? Because I wasn't up his arse? In what realm am I responsible for Longbottom making a mess- something he does every sodding week?!"

Silence reigned through the entire classroom. Harry refused to back down despite the man's glare reaching dangerously vicious levels. This was complete hogwash and everyone knew it. The bell ringing broke everyone out of their stunned silence and the class moved en masse to flee the room. Professor Snape didn't so much as flinch as the room entered within seconds, leaving only a handful of Slytherins to witness Harry's demise. Rather than hexing him the man took a single step forward and spoke sharply. "Detention, Mister Potter. Tonight. With Caretaker Filch." With his punishment handed out he turned in a flurry of black robes and strutted out of the classroom.

Harry scowled after Professor Snape. Draco looked like he had insulted his father, his face was so scandalized. "Harry!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "What in the name of the gods are you thinking?"

"That he's going to challenge the professor to a duel, by the looks of it," Zabini goaded behind them.

Harry turned his scowl on the Italian, but Zabini was almost as bad as Draco with getting a clue. The taller boy merely arched an eyebrow as if asking Harry to tell him he was wrong.

He wasn't, but Harry would be the last to admit it.

"Whatever," he frowned and turned back to clean up their work station. Harry was pretty sure the only reason his potion hadn't been vanished was because Draco was his partner today. If he had been working with Vince like last year then he would undoubtedly be starting over from scratch.

"The professor seems to have a bone to pick with you. It's almost like you've done something to upset him, but it's only been a month. Whatever could you have done this time?"

"This time?" Harry scowled.

Zabini waved his hand in the air. "You seem to be involved with something or other at any given time. Inquiring minds would like to know what exactly the great Harry Potter gets into while at school."

Harry wanted to bite the boy's head off, but realized he had already done more harm than good presently. He was supposed to be a proper Heir while at school. Daphne and Lady Malfoy had both stressed how important it was that he showed himself to be an upstanding student and potentially a boon to their society if he were allowed to accept the responsibility of a House when he turned fourteen, the earliest he could be named the head of house Potter. It was an important first step in ensuring his father would have a base of operations when he returned.

He had thought a lot about what would gain him the Dark Lord's approval (and forgiveness) this past summer. Harry may only be twelve, but he was Heir apparent of an esteemed house and upon his fourteenth year he would be able to seize his assets with the assistance of the goblins at Gringotts. The Potter fortune would be vast after its family tree had been dwindled down to the main line in the last century. Not that Harry approved of being adopted by the Light family following his mother's flight from the Dark Lord, but if they were going to give him a free fortune for the insult of carrying their name instead of his rightful one, he wasn't going to complain too terribly. (And maybe his mother had hoped to gain him some anonymity by changing his last name, but that had defeated the purpose when he was accused of killing his father as a baby.)

But that was besides the point currently. With the obvious signs of practice, Harry cleared his mind and his face relaxed into what Lady Malfoy called their 'public facade'. Zabini pulled back slightly, recognizing the shift for what it was. The boy would get nothing out of him that he didn't want to give. "Is there something you need Zabini?"

The man flashed a quick smile. Porcelain white and boyishly charming. It was obvious that he was going to be a heartbreaker in a few more years. "No. I was just passing through."

He walked off with nary a glance behind him. Harry frowned internally. That one was going to be a problem. "I thought Professor Snape always oversaw the Slytherin detentions," Goyle said.

Draco did that chin lift, head tilt thing, that said he was going to remain stubbornly out of it. "Yes, well, I'm sure he is much too busy to attend all of them."

"Of course," Vince drawled. "Much too busy in the first month of classes to sit at his desk grading papers as Harry cleans cauldrons or separate potion ingredients."

"Maybe he doesn't trust Harry with the potion ingredients," Draco snapped.

"Because I didn't have the best grade in our practical potions final last term," Harry growled with thick sarcasm dripping from his voice then turned to leave the classroom.

Talking about their head of house was liable to put Harry in a bad mood these days. Not to say that everything was horrible. His lessons with Daphne and Vince (with Draco and Helena adding their own encouragements (heckling)) was less like cramming a griffin down his gullet and more like seeing something in a new way. Everything had its place and function although Daphne readily admitted that a great deal of what the higher houses practiced were contradictory and pointless. Wizarding traditions, it seemed, lasted for a thousand years rather than a hundred like muggle traditions. (This made sense considering that the common wizarding lifespan was somewhere around two hundred years.)

And outside of Professor Snape's ever disapproving scowl (and Colin Creevey AND Gilderoy Lockhart) he was finding very little else was potentially dissatisfactory in his life. Even Granger had seemed to leave off of him this term. (A blessing considering he was in enough trouble on his own without having to deal with the house politics with being openly allied with a muggleborn gryffindor. He was nowhere near confident in his standing with anyone in the serpent's den to attempt that endeavor.)

Harry spent much of the rest of the day trying to duck away from Professor Lockhart (who had an uncanny ability to spot Harry even in a crowd), avoid Creevey (who had another equally uncanny ability to sense Harry's presence even across the corridor), and not think about Professor Snape's growing animosity towards him. He had very little success with their head of house but only got dragged into one photo op with the foppish professor with Creevey's excitable squeaks as background music. "Perhaps you should start casting stinging hexes at him," Nott suggested as they returned to the common room after dinner that night.

"Who? The gryffindor firstie or Lockhart?" Goyle asked.

"Both." Vince and Draco said at once unapologetically.

'Or the professor,' Harry thought mutinously.

It was a tad unfair (not to mention blasphemous to threaten one's head of house) but Harry was twelve years old and if he wanted to be unreasonable within the confines of his own mind then he was going to be. "I'll catch you lot later," he said to the small group of boys as he dropped off his backpack and headed back towards the wall.

"Where are you off to?" Nott piped up.

"Detention." He left before he had to hear anyone's opinion on that. A few eyes followed him on his way out of the common room- everyone knew where he was going so late at night. Whether or not they knew he was serving his detention with the caretaker rather than their head of house was anyone's guess and Harry would hate to see how some of the more politically ambitious slytherins would react to that information. He tried to leave that train of thought for the time being and look on the bright side. Harry supposed he should be pleased that his detention wasn't tomorrow. He'd hate to have to go from Sir Nicolas' party straight to detention. (Harry wondered if the professor had given him this day for a reason but then decided he didn't much care what the man had planned since he had given the detention to begin with. And for a rather stupid reason.)

The caretaker's office was located on the third floor around the corner from the great hall so was easy to find. His detention, the man informed him after reminiscing about a time where students were hung from chains in the dungeons, was to polish the trophies in the trophy room. Every single trophy. Without magic. Harry had had to take several calming breaths after the man left his familiar to oversee his detention before disappearing on his own duties. Safe to say, Harry had a rather boring detention. It was time consuming but also mind numbing and gave him plenty of time to practice his occlumency as he was cataloging and polishing the several dozen quidditch trophies (of which an M. McGonogall was one of the recipients (and J. Potter, but Harry ignored that)) and the 'special services to the schools' medal of which there were only seven. By the time Harry had finished it was well into the night, the cat had left him alone almost thirty minutes ago, and his hands ached. By the time he reached the caretaker's office with the bucket and rag he was ready to retire for the evening. "Caretaker Filch?" Harry called as he pushed the door open.

He was done polishing every single one of those blasted trophies- still unsure of why exactly he had to do it without his wand when it wouldn't have made any difference one way or the other. It didn't matter though. It was several hours past curfew and Harry was exhausted. He was going to bed whether the man gave him permission or not (although Harry would prefer not to get another detention for not checking in with the man). The office was empty of the caretaker and cat duo, but was filled to bursting with random knick knacks, likely all confiscated over the years. His desk in particular had a mountain of parchment covering every available surface.

It was nearing eleven and Harry was bone tired and sore beyond belief. He hadn't worked quite like this since leaving the Dursleys and realized how lazy he must have gotten in the meantime. It would have driven Aunt Petunia mental, if he had ever planned on returning that is. Deciding to just leave the man a note with the bucket and rags so he couldn't accuse Harry of running off, Harry began glancing through the parchments hoping to find a blank one to use. "Aha," he muttered under his breath spotting one.

Harry set the bucket down on the floor and grabbed the paper hoping to see a spare quill as well. But a splash of red caught his eye and he frowned. There was already writing on it. And it wasn't a spare bit of parchment but a pamphlet. "Kwik spells..." Harry read off of it. "A correspondence course in beginner magic. You're not blank parchment at all."

A sudden weight fell on his shoulder and startled Harry so badly he dropped the letter. "You!"

Harry tried to bend forward and curl himself into a ball- the only way to protect his stomach and head- but the hand only tightened further and yanked him back. He stumbled and ran into one of the dozen filing cabinets sending papers flying. Caretaker Filch stood towering above him, his face mottled red and twisted in grief. "What are you doing in here boy?!"

Harry ducked his head down but didn't take his gaze off the man. Just because no one had taken a swing at him yet didn't mean it wouldn't happen eventually. "I've finished my detention sir," he whispered in a voice he hadn't used since before Hogwarts. It was his 'don't anger Uncle Vernon voice' not because it kept the man from getting upset but because it was at the perfect level to not be considered talking back or mumbling, both of which would get him a thumping. "I was waiting to go back to my cupboa-dorm. My dorm."

His shoulders tensed at the obvious mistake and watched the caretaker carefully for any signs of escalation. The man's gaze was instead focused on the letter Harry had accidentally picked up. His face drained of color and Harry took several steps back, sending yet another pile of items crashing to the floor. His heart was pounding in his ears, but Harry could still hear the man's growl. "Get out... get. OUT!"

Harry turned tail and ran. He ran and he ran and there were walls and tapestries and paintings but Harry still ran. Until Harry found himself in the basement ducked behind a suit of armor and his heart thrumming so hard he felt it in his head.

"Stop it," he berated himself as his entire body shook. It was the crash from the adrenaline, he knew, but he had honestly been through much worse back at the Dursleys. Honestly he wasn't sure why he was so scared. The caretaker was grouchy, but not much else. He was one of the sort that liked to talk bad but wouldn't actually do anything about it. Harry knew this type of person. He had seen many of them while attending the local primary as most staff and parents were like this. Sure not many of them shouted at him- Uncle Vernon did that enough for everyone- but that didn't change that they spoke ill of him. He had dealt with worse, he knows he has.

It still took him several more minutes before his hands stopped shaking and he made his way down into the dungeons.

"You look like you've just sat your NEWTs Harry. What time did you get in last night?"

Harry didn't even feel like reprimanding Draco for being especially blunt because it was true. Harry felt awful. "Midnight. But I couldn't sleep." He had had restless dreams about the worst of his experiences at the Dursleys for some reason. Honestly he hadn't given the family much thought since he had left two years ago. It was an inconvenience he hadn't thought to prepare for. Truthfully the plan had been to find his father and upon gaining his forgiveness for that nasty business with almost killing him, the man would take him away from the Dursleys forever and train him to be a proper monster. That would have been the end of it he had thought. So the fact that Harry had been dreaming about the Dursleys all night was just- "Way to be insensitive Malfoy," Nott frowned coming up to place a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry flinched away from the contact. When he turned to glare at his roommate the other blond had both hands raised. "Sorry Potter. I'm sure you would much rather be left alone today, is that right?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy. What did he mean? Why was he acting so concerned for Harry's exhausted state? If anything Harry would expect someone to take advantage of his perceived weakness and capitalize on it in hopes of usurping his power within Slytherin house (they would fail, of course, but it would be expected). Vince came up to his other side and although he approached Harry he did not touch him which was appreciated. "Harry, it's samhain," he said quietly.

Ah. Harry could feel the tension loosening its firm grasp in the pit of his stomach. This, at least, was a familiar pain. The day Harry had effectively ruined his own life (Aunt Petunia would say that the day of Harry's birth he had effectively ruined his life, but Harry thought that was a bit harsh). "I see. Yes, that would explain my restless night," he said.

It didn't but it provided a useful scapegoat on his nightmares. To purebloods who valued family above all else it would be considered reasonable for him to reflect on the death of his own parents. Furthermore no one would reasonably use such a thing against a child. Harry's youth worked in his favor at this point. But by the age of fourteen to still show visible signs of nightmares concerning them would be seen as an inexcusable weakness. There were glamor charms and occlumency techniques that he should have learned to proficiency at that point that would prevent broadcasting whether or not he was still affected. Harry would have to remain vigilant in the future. "Circe Harry, I forgot." Draco frowned and seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before he came to a decision. "I will remain at your side this day."

Harry's eyes widened before he could stop himself. "No, Draco, that's really not necessary-"

"I was rude and reparations must be made," the stubborn blond jutted out his chin.

Harry's mind was in no state to jump around so early in the morning but he scrambled for another solution. Draco felt he had insulted Harry. This was not unusual for the boy who often spoke in a snobbish way, but he hadn't meant to insult Harry and didn't want his words to perhaps affect their standing with one another. By claiming to remain at his side, Draco had essentially loaned himself out to Harry for the day as a sort of aid. (Harry was expected to use him only to the extent of repaying the insult given but was not to take his requests too far lest he insult Draco in turn.) Seeing how they were just school boys it wasn't such a big deal but he had heard of stories of people who had offered themselves being made to take up duels in the other's place or becoming involved in nefarious duties that they were then honor-bound to not report. It was a rather extreme reaction on Draco's part to what had been a little ribbing. "Then how about you attend Sir Nicolas' Death Day party with me and Harry?" Vince offered, coming to Harry's rescue.

Draco's nose scrunched up in distaste, but Harry immediately jumped on the idea. "Yes. That is what I want. Draco, I request your company this evening at an event. What say you?"

Draco's face had already descended into a full face scowl, but he had already offered an extreme show of his honor and apologetic stance. He had to accept Harry's return offer or risk insulting him again. "Fine," he grumbled.

He looked like he wanted to put his own stipulations in place but knew he couldn't. Harry sighed. It was too early in the morning for political games. "Let's get to breakfast. We're running a bit behind," Harry said as he led the way out of the dorm room.

During the entirety of morning classes he was trying to understand what had just happened. Harry knew, objectively speaking, that he had a considerable amount of power for a second year. The way Daphne had explained it, unless you were a member of a sacred twenty eight house (which Harry was not), Heir to an ancient house (which Harry was not), or especially brilliant at networking (which Harry was not) it was unheard of for a student to be ranked higher than their own year. Even being Heir apparent of the esteemed house of Potter (not old enough to be ancient, but pure enough to be venerated) didn't really automatically rank him above his year as his status was given simply for being the last living member of the house and more to the point: he was half-blood. (Not that Harry was a Potter by birth, but he had been reading up on these pesky things called blood adoptions that explained some things he had been wondering). Being Heir automatically ranked him higher than Draco, Goyle, Zabini, and Nott who hadn't been declared heirs of their houses, but not higher than Vince who was. However, Vince's own actions were indicative of a subordinate most times which did make Harry higher than him in their own years power structure. Or at least on the boys' side it did. But Harry was also being 'groomed' by Daphne Greengrass, Heiress Apparent of house Greengrass. Her nickname wasn't Queenie for nothing either. Daphne was ranked amongst the fifth years last he heard with a few contacts amongst the sixth and seventh years. That made her more powerful than eighty percent of Slytherin house. Her sponsorship of him was what ultimately ranked Harry up around the third years. But all of this was besides the point because most didn't even bother to pay attention to the ranking until they were in higher years. In third year you usually started making plans and fifth year campaigning was in full swing. For first and second years it was generally the family name with the most weight behind it that received the highest ranking. For their year it should have been Draco but Harry was an anomaly. He had effectively taken the spot that would have gone to Draco and while the blond had never been confrontational about it, he had never been as obviously submissive as the earlier interaction would indicate. Backing down in first year when Harry had first declared himself in the power structure was one thing. Giving one's word to shadow him was another.

It appeared that Draco was declaring his support for Harry in the power dynamic but a lot more directly than Vincent who simply was always there. This would make more sense if Harry had done anything to have deserved such a reaction from the other boy. And until he found out how he had earned such a declaration of loyalty Harry wouldn't be able to trust it. "Ugh," he groaned later that afternoon during his free period.

Rather than join Draco and Nott in the library Harry had returned to the common room hoping to have some time away from the blond. Just thinking about having to take Draco Malfoy to a death day party was causing him to rethink his attendance. If Harry hadn't already given his word to Sir Nicolas that he would attend he would simply not show up. "What has you bothered, mon petit chou?" Daphne asked from her perch across from him where she was scribing an essay for Arithmancy.

He thought about admitting Draco's sudden actions to her, but knew it would probably turn into one of her three hour 'people watch' sessions where they would sit in a corner and Harry would be expected to point out different power dynamics he saw. Wanting absolutely nothing to do with that at all, he decided to ask about something else that had been bothering him. "What are Kwik spells?"

Daphne didn't even bother to glance up from the parchment in front of her. "Like spell chains? They're indicative of some sort of law enforcement training as all members of the MLE learn a basic set to incapacitate targets. Although I think Aurors have more advanced and extensive chains than other members of their department."

Harry tilted his head and made a mental note in one of his rooms within his mind palace to research that later. "I don't think that's it. It's spelled k-w-i-k."

Daphne scrunched up her nose and put her quill back into her ink. "Well... it's supposed to be really easy magic taught to adult wizards that didn't receive proper schooling."

She accented the words 'supposed to be' as if that was the reason why something existed, but that wasn't what everyone used it for. Like how the abandoned classrooms were supposed to be used as study rooms but most upper forms used them as designated snogging spots. Harry tried to think of an alternative use for such a particular course, but he was coming up with a blank. What else could they be for? "'Didn't receive proper schooling...' like dropouts or expulsions?"

She made another scrunched up face. This one was almost exclusively one she used when she was skirting around a topic not spoken of so plainly in polite conversation. "Not exactly... It's notoriously used by those with... subpar magical abilities."

Harry frowned. Davis had accused Goyle of being subpar in their charms lesson last week and Vince had hexed her for the slight. "Like they were too stupid to pay attention to lessons or...?"

"Squibs, Harold," Helena announced as she plopped down in the chair next to Daphne and draped her arm across her chair. "The darling is trying to say squibs."

"Helena," she chided. It was remarkably similar to how Lady Malfoy would say Lucius' name whenever he was being especially creepy about talking to Harry.

"My name is Harry. Not Harold or Harrison. Just Harry." He addressed the newcomer first. It was becoming a concern of his that Helena was actively trying to change his name amongst their group of peers by calling him out of his name.

She waved his correction away as she always did. Helena may be a prefect, but she was a right menace when she put her mind to it (which she did. Often). Harry had even heard rumors that she had been something of a terror in her childhood before Hogwarts. "And what's a squid have to do with anything?" he asked.

Helena giggled and Daphne let out a long suffering sigh. Both her and Vince had been infamous for that sound anytime he asked a question in their discussions, but it had considerably lessened since last year. Harry had thought he was done with the 'things every wizard should know' list. "A squib," Daphne stressed the 'b' sound at the end so he noticed the difference this time. "Is a non-magical child born of magical parents. They are the opposite of muggleborns essentially."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. A magical child born without magic? That couldn't possibly be a thing. But then again, the same could be said for muggleborns. But it was different for them. Muggleborns were allowed into this secret world hidden within their own filled with magic and wonder. To be born a squib would be... "That's... but that's horrible!"

He couldn't possibly imagine being born into this world and yet being completely separate from it. "You've said most children don't even exert accidental magic until they're six or seven. Longbottom didn't do anything noticeable until he was ten!"

That meant some children would spend as much as a decade waiting for magic that would never come. Would be told after all the stories and all the miracles they had witnessed that it was never meant for them because they were born without magic...

Harry looked to Helena as the oldest. "What happens to them? The kids that don't have magic?"

Her sober expression told him more about the bitter truth than her next words. Neither of the girls were as open as they had been only moments before. This was the face one put on for strangers, to distance oneself from the conversation. "If the family is half blood they are often sent to live with muggle family members or simply raised in the muggle world. Purebloods, especially more traditional ones, tend to... wash their hands of the children entirely."

'Wash their hands of them entirely,' Harry thought with venom in his mouth. 'I can only imagine what some of these old houses would do to a magicless heir being born to their line...'

It wasn't a pleasant thought in the least. Which brought him back to why he had even needed to learn about squibs in the first place. "The caretaker..." Harry whispered.

He wondered if the man was disowned as a child and that was the reason he was so bitter to the children here. Why would Dumbledore force such a thing upon the man? If Harry was forced to be on the cusp of a wonderous world of miracles yet separate and have to watch a bunch of unruly and ungrateful children squander the gift they were given in favor of goofing off, he'd make it his goal to terrorize them too. "Oh. Heard the rumors have you?" Helena asked. "No one's confirmed that he's a squib, but there have been speculations about it for as long as I've been here. Filch has been here almost as long as the Headmaster has, I've been told."

"But I thought wizards live longer than muggles."

"Oh we do," Helena waved a hand through the air as if batting away Harry's forlorn mood. "But squibs aren't the same as muggles per se. There's magic there. They just can't use it or there's not enough to amount to anything."

"In theory," Daphne pointed out. "As you can imagine no one actually likes to speak of squibs. It is simply not done."

Harry frowned, but allowed the subject to drop. Daphne hands were resting on the couch rather than clasped on her lap. This generally indicated she would soon pardon herself from the room to flee the conversation. Helena for her part looked as if nothing bothered her but Harry was still unable to read her at all. "I understand," he said even though he really didn't. This was probably one of those things that one simply accepted being born and raised in the wizarding world. It wasn't Harry's place to tell an entire culture they were wrong (although he could speak with his father about ways to address his discomfort with the entire situation).

Harry wondered belatedly if the monster would even care. He doubted Lucius Malfoy gave much weight to everything Draco prattled on to him about. But surely the Dark Lord would see that Harry's concerns were valid and not the misgivings of a school boy...

He wasn't entirely sure and that bothered him. (Harry did decide that perhaps that the treatment of squibs shouldn't be among the first group of things he asked his father to address.) By the time dinner time came around and Harry had to go and retrieve his allies from the library he had also removed his concerns for the astronomy class and the need for so many silk dublets for a proper wardrobe as well. He was debating the benefits of asking a screening process for information distribution (the Daily Prophet was complete rubbish most days) when an unwelcomed yet familiar voice echoed down the corridor. "Hiya Harry!"

He didn't groan aloud but Harry's fingers itched to reach for his wand and throw a ward up to stop the little stalker. He regretted not telling Vincent and Draco where the party was going to be held. Surely Draco would have had some complaint or other about walking himself to the event (and it might even be considered rude to not walk with him considering the blond was only going thanks to Harry) but if Harry hadn't been heading to the library to go check on the two, he wouldn't have been found by his gryffindor stalker. "I did not give you permission to use my first name," Harry said bluntly, hoping it would discourage the boy from whatever obsession he had with him.

The curly-haired boy didn't even lose a step. "Of course Mister Potter. Where are you headed? It's time for dinner- I've heard that the Halloween feast here is amazing- but of course you already know that. Anyway, where are you going? Can I come with you?" he said in one long breath.

Harry's right eye twitched. "What's your name?" he asked.

There was a sudden squeal that had Harry whipping around his wand at the ready for an attack. What he saw was the first year looking like he had just seen Merlin's return. "I-I'm... Colin. Colin Creevey," he choked out seeming on the verge of tears (Harry wondered if perhaps he had offended the boy).

Harry sighed and resheathed his wand. "Creevey. I have other things to attend to this day. I expect you to respect my privacy."

"Oh yeah I get it!"

The boy continued to shadow him down the corridor proving that he did not, in fact, 'get it'. "I want to be alone Creevey," Harry stressed.

"Yes sir Mister Potter! I'll make sure no one bothers you!"

Harry got the impression that this little ball of energy was speaking in exclamations, he seemed to be so hyper. It was annoying and without a proper night of rest it was also causing a headache. "You're bothering me."

"Oh. Of course! I'll see you at dinner then?"

And without having lost a single step- or that smile- Creevey hurried down the corridor away from Harry. He had no idea how the kid was so happy all the time, but it was exhausting just to look at. Thankfully he hadn't taken another picture of Harry- he had heard that he's been going around taking pictures of whatever caught his fancy. He never felt happier to skip a meal before in his life. It would only stand to reason that he got to the library only to discover that Vincent and Goyle had gone to dinner for some sweets leaving Draco to finish his transfiguration essay before Harry sequestered them away for the evening. Which meant Harry now had to go to the great hall and risk being caught by Colin Creevey to go get his ally. "I told him that we could always stop by the kitchen on our way back from the party, but he wouldn't hear it," Draco explained as they entered the rambunctiously loud great hall.

Harry glanced at the large jack o' lanterns that had replaced part of the floating candles above. "Goyle probably had more to do with him coming to dinner than his desire for their cupcakes."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I swear those two-"

"Nice to see you take time out of your busy schedule to join us mere mortals, Potter."

Harry blinked in surprise at the sudden venomous voice that cut through their conversation. There was a girl with light brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail adorned with Slytherin robes. Harry didn't know her per se, but did recognize one of their classmates. She was in his year. By the look of the malicious smile on her face, she was not a fan of his. "You should learn your place Davis," Draco warned.

Her smile fell but she did not back down. Harry had had it with everyone at this point and wanted to sequester himself away amongst the ghosts. Somehow this was all Professor Snape's fault, he was sure of it. "Can't get mad at her for saying what we're all thinking," Analise Bagshot said as she stepped to Davis' aid.

Vince appeared as if by magic at Harry's other side. This time, Harry outright bared his teeth at the two women. They were challenging him! This was an attack on his placement in the hierarchy. Davis and Bagshot weren't even in the same rank area as him and they were trying to usurp his position? "Aren't you ranked amongst the second years?" Harry sneered allowing his mask to show his more negative emotions.

Lady Malfoy had warned there was a time and place for such emotions and to use them sparingly less his enemies be too used to his temper. Harry in particular would be working against Lily and James Potter's sorting into Gryffindor house. If he lost his temper too frequently he would be accused of being just as brash and hot-headed as the lion house was rumored to be. This was to be avoided at all cost. Thankfully he had as of yet to lose his temper publicly so neither Davis nor Bagshot were prepared for the anger that lurked in the sharpness of his gaze. Both took a step back as he approached. "Your own rank is below Gregory Goyle's and he isn't even proactive in the hierarchy."

"Because he's allied himself with you," Davis spat.

Harry tilted his head. "Yes. He has. Remarkable how remaining in my good graces can gain one success in their endeavors. It makes one wonder what would occur if you found yourself at the other end of my wand."

Bagshot jutted her chin out, but Harry saw the tightening around her eyes. She was afraid. The stare down continued for a few more tense seconds before Davis clutched at her robe and pulled her back. The two made quick work of disappearing from his sight after that. "What, by the gods, was that?" Draco hissed.

Harry relaxed his sneer into a more appropriate frown. "What indeed..."

It was clearly an attempt at usurping his power, if a poor one. But the fact that it was made at all meant that others in the hierarchy believed he was weak. Others were sure to follow after Bagshot and Davis' show of solidarity. If not a classmate then an upper year who would seek to get to Daphne through him. And they wouldn't be so easily handled by a few choice words. "You'll need to learn some more spells," Vince warned.

Harry nodded. He would. And soon by the looks of the askance glances he was getting from others seated at their table.

* * *

**A/N: This one was absolutely massive. Well over twelve thousand words it rounded out to be. November is fast approaching which means NaNoWriMo season is almost upon us. I had to work very hard to get a lot of chapters pre-written so that November's general madness didn't interfere with these updates. So everything up to chapter fourteen is ready to go (but I do not have a proofreader so there are bound to be mistakes riddled throughout and I ask for your understanding with that).**

**But more good news. Tom finally appears (officially) in chapter ten. It isn't very long but Harry does get to have a brief discussion with him and there are more fun times to come with their interactions. I personally would have liked him to be an everyday character but that is not possible for the story at that point. But do not grieve he is important in the story! (I mean it is a Tomarry story...)**


	9. Chapter 9

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

"Oh no, it's Granger," Draco groaned.

True to his word a familiar bushy-haired witch caught their eye across the buffet table. She seemed just as dismayed to see them, or it might be the rotting boar carcass she was standing beside. Harry nodded once to her in greeting. He couldn't imagine how she had gotten an invitation to a Death Day party, but Harry had a pretty good idea why she would want to go. The girl was insatiable when it came to her pursuit of knowledge and it would be a verifiable gem in her know-it-all crown if she had first-hand knowledge about the inner workings of a Death Day celebration. The living were not exactly unwelcomed to such a thing, it just was simply not done. For one, a ghosts' death day party was packed with other ghosts and the sensation of passing through them was disconcerting to say the least (like walking through cobwebs spun of ice and mist that chilled you to your bones). Secondly the catering left much to be desired. "There was roasted chicken at dinner," Vincent said quietly, in what was akin to a pout for him. "And ham. And mince pies and pudding."

"Morgana's mercy, does having all this rotten food actually serve a purpose?" Draco whined, covering his nose with a handkerchief as they fled the buffet table.

Harry had hoped that Sir Nicolas would had stocked something the living could partake in seeing as Harry (and Granger) had been invited, but there was no such luck. Then again it might have been a sight rude to do so if he was being honest. The ghosts were walking through the table of rotten food to gather a semblance of taste (or the memory of it) and for Harry and the other living invited to eat palatable food would be in poor taste indeed. "Harry Potter, you've made it!" came a booming voice.

Sir Nicolas floated up, the Gray Lady not too far behind him. "Sir Nicolas," he greeted with a bow. "I cannot express enough how gracious you are to have assented to my attendance of your party. This is Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe, two of my classmates from Slytherin house."

"Oh a Malfoy, good, very good," the ghost bowed in greeting. "Your ancestor is amongst the headless hunt crowd. Put in a good word for me, will you?"

Draco blanched. "Um, sure. Consider it done."

Sir Nicolas floated off and Vincent turned to the blond. "I didn't know one of your ancestors was beheaded."

"Neither did I," he grumbled. "I will be sending a letter to my father immediately. If it is someone who has usurped our family name then they will be exorcised promptly."

"How like you to kill off an innocent ghost for even using your name," came a familiar voice.

"And how like you to voice your opinion when it is unwarranted," Draco snapped back turning to face Granger as she walked up to them. "I see you managed to badger Nearly Headless Nick into giving you an invitation to his fête de la mort. I would almost feel inclined to be impressed if I weren't sure you were insufferable until he allowed your attendance."

Granger's scowl was not as horrid as Helena's but it was rather impressive all the same that Draco managed to create such disdain in someone (other than Harry himself but he had gotten to know the Malfoy heir a little more and that had helped dramatically).

"Please tell me you don't plan to make a habit out of this?" Draco protested when they finally excused themselves from the festivities.

"Death Day celebrations aren't annually," Harry said. "When you have an eternity before you, it becomes a little cumbersome to celebrate one's death so ritualistically."

"Fantastic. Ghosts thinks it's too much bother to celebrate their death's every year but want to celebrate them anyway. By the gods, why would anyone..."

_"Come child... Yes... so hungry... so hungry..."_

"Harry?"

Harry turned to his friends his gaze confused. "I think Peeves is getting a tad into the more macabre spirit of the season."

Draco and Vincent looked just as confused. "What are you on about?" the blond asked.

_"Not food... But soon... Yes... I will go... I will kill... kill... kill..."_

Harry's eyes widened in horror at the words as they began to fade up the stairs. He took off immediately to the shouts of protests from the others after the voice. "Harry!" Vincent's voice called loudest of the two. "What is it?"

"There's someone in the halls. He says he's going to kill a person!"

"What?!" came Draco's voice a tad higher in pitch than normal.

They ran past the first floor where the sounds of the feast were still underway and up to the second floor where Harry turned off and started sprinting down the corridor. Their steps louder than normal because there was a great deal of water on the floor. "Harry stop," Vince had finally caught up and grabbed the younger boy's arm. "What are you talking about? Who's trying to kill you?"

_"No. Not me_," he waved his hand around as he tried to tug his arm from Vince's grip that had tightened suddenly. "Not me specifically. Just someone. He said he was hungry."

"Who said?" Vince insisted as Draco appeared at the other end of the corridor, having finally caught up to the two.

"The man. He must've been invisible. He said he was hungry and was going to kill a student."

Vincent's gaze narrowed. "Harry... there was no voice..."

Harry frowned. Of course there had been a voice. It had been plain as day to him. How could Vincent not have- Harry's eyes widened in realization. It must've been another monster. Perhaps it was a monster that could only be seen and heard by other monsters. But then why hadn't Harry been able to see him?

Seeing that he had finally calmed down Vince released his arm and turned to Draco who was stepping around a touch more cautiously. Harry glanced around hoping to see a sign of the other monster's passing. It would have been the first time he had met another one and wondered if it was the same type of monster as his father. "I dearly hope this water is not from the loo..." Draco groaned as he glared reproachfully at his shoes.

"As opposed to what? I doubt even the Weasley twins would flood the second floor for a lark," Vince said.

Harry was still looking around trying to hear the monster's voice a third time. It had sounded like it was going upstairs but not exactly as if it was through the corridor the way they had come. Peeves had been known to turn himself invisible but not to make his voice only heard by one person in a group so it couldn't be the poltergeist. Could it really be another monster in the castle? Perhaps a relative of his father's? Of his? "Is that Filch's kneazle?"

Harry turned to where Draco's voice came and saw immediately what he was talking about. The caretaker's cat was suspended mid-leap in the air. Harry stepped forward to investigate when a flash of red caught his gaze. His eyes widened at the words painted onto the corridor wall. "Is this supposed to be a joke," Draco's voice called out, slightly higher in pitch than normal. "Because it is done is supremely poor taste."

"Holy shit..." Harry whispered in awe as he read and reread the words painted on the wall in what was probably blood, "Holy shit!"

"Now what are- what is... fuck," Vincent turned to the two of them with what was probably panic. "We need to go. We need to go now!"

But it was too late. Dinner had ended and there was already a flurry of activity and noises at the end of the corridor that would lead to their escape. Within seconds a mass of students turned the corner and began approaching. They stilled at the sight of the words which were rather easy to see if one cared to look. The forward movement ceased almost like they had hit against a shield charm and Harry could just see the beginnings of what was sure to be a rather insidious rumor began to spread. "What are you lot up to? Move along! Move along!" came the raised voice of the caretaker.

The crowd parted and the man appeared at the front of the line, his eyes latching on Harry in challenge. "Potter. What are you..."

His eyes must have caught sight of his kneazle because in the next instant his face paled several shades. "Mrs. Norris?"

The man hurried forward with an alacrity Harry hadn't seen once in the aging caretaker and stopped just short of touching his pet. He whipped around in the next instant his gaze finding Harry and narrowing. He took several steps back having been at the receiving end of the man's temper before but not fast enough as he reached out and grabbed hold of his robe. "You killed my cat!" he roared.

"No I didn't," he grunted out futilely pulling at the man's grip.

"Don't lie, boy. You've done it alright. You killed my cat! I'll kill you boy, I swear I will!"

"Argus."

At the headmaster's appearance the man released his grip. Harry took several steps back to the safety at Vince and Draco's side. Professor McGonogall and Professor Snape were at his sides. "He killed my cat," the caretaker hissed, pointing a finger at Harry. "I want to see some punishment."

The aged old man stepped forward to inspect the feline and Professor McGonogall turned to the gathered crowd. "Everyone is to return to the dormitories immediately," she snapped.

No one dared question her with Professor Snape looming like a wraith at her side. Vince grabbed his robe and began tugging them away only to be stopped at their head of house's voice. "Not you three."

Draco, who only had just seen the words written on the corridor wall looked like an amalgamation of emotions the least of which were nausea, dread, and disbelief. Harry figured his father tended to have that reaction on many people and wasn't too worried about the blond. The Dark Lord was a rather foreboding presence to be subjected to, even through something as innocuous as a note. (Although a note written in blood was a tad dramatic Harry thought.)

"My cat has been killed," the caretaker said heatedly to the headmaster looking on the edge of tears. "I demand there be some punishment."

"Calm yourself, Argus," the elderly wizard said in his sparkly constellation robes. "She is not dead merely petrified."

"Petrified?" Professor Mcgonogall echoed her predecessor. "But how Albus?"

"It's him that's done it," Filch said a gnarly finger pointing at Harry. "He knows that I'm... I'm..."

"I didn't kill the caretaker's kneazle," Harry spoke up in his own defense when no one else seemed to want to. The glare Professor Snape was leveling at him looked like the man had already assumed it was his fault. "We just found her like this."

"And why, precisely, were _you_ here Mister Potter?" his Head of House sneered.

Harry sent the man a scowl. He definitely deserved the man's ire last term and might have even deserved him ignoring Harry's presence whenever he came to visit Malfoy Manor, but the fact that his own Head of House was constantly out to prove he was a blight on the face of the earth was starting to really piss him off. Vince, seeing Harry had no intention of answering the man without spitting vitriol and probably ending up in detention for the rest of the year, quickly answered in his place. "Harry does not participate in Hogwarts' Samhain celebrations. We attended Sir Nicolas' Death Day party instead."

Professor Snape's gaze spared Vince only a moment of consideration before he turned back to Harry. "The Gryffindor ghost, Mister Potter? How... fitting. Has your summer in luxury ruined you of our own meager feasts?"

Harry swallowed the snarl that crawled up his throat, but the venom in his voice could not be hidden. "My mother died today. I do not find the day worth celebrating if I cannot speak to her."

This, at least, took the man off balance. The Headmaster with his vomit-inducing robes stepped forward then before either one of the dark-haired slytherins could start another volley. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he reminded the potions master.

The professor merely walked off in a flurry of black robes. "I will escort you three to the common room where you will stay until morning," he snapped behind him.

Vince grabbed Harry's arm when he bared his teeth at the man's retreating back. "Yes sir," he called out before Harry could offer his own rebuttal.

Harry had just about had enough of this campaign Professor Snape was spearheading against him. It was exhausting, time-consuming, disruptive to his studies, and doing no favors to his standing in the hierarchy to boot. While it was pretty much ignored during the first month, having the head of slytherin have such an obvious distaste for him was starting to raise eyebrows. And the man had to know how his attitude was affecting Harry's entire life. Just last week he had banished two of Harry's potions halfway through the brewing process due to some microscopic color differentiation or boiling intensity. The week before he had lowered Harry's grade on an essay for going three inches over the required length (Granger had been a whole foot over the required length and received no such similar punishment). When Harry was being treated worse than even the Gryffindors, there were bound to be repercussions. He'd had to hex a third year twice this month and had already been challenged by Davis and Bagshot just this morning. Helena had warned him that if things didn't change soon he would be in a much worse situation.

And if he wanted a sign of change, the note on the corridor wall was an asteroid strike.

Of course he knew what the Chamber of Secrets was. Or rather, what Hogwarts a History said it was. It was a footnote that would be missed by most but Harry was adamant about learning everything about his heritage. There were the normal paranoid delusions of Salazar Slytherin creating the chamber in secret and hiding a monster there that would purge the muggleborns from the school when called forth by his heir. Harry thought that was complete and utter hogwash. (It helped that he had spoken with Vince more about his father's campaign before his mother's betrayal drove him batty.) The Dark Lord had been the heir and his earliest political aspirations were mostly geared to preserving the wizarding traditions and teachings that coincidentally enough the Muggleborn population wanted to modify in order to better suit their muggle-upbringing. Voldemort had thought that was ridiculous and had indicated as such. The public hadn't appreciated the sentiment. (Then again when things escalated to include curses and hexes, Harry doubted anyone would have listened anyway.)

Taking all of these things into consideration Harry was pretty sure that whatever had been placed in the chambers was there to protect the students not attack them. Of course that wasn't how history remembered it. (Harry was pretty sure a Gryffindor was to blame for the mass hysteria involving his ancestor.)

Harry ran the words over and over in his head as they were escorted down to the dungeons. Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Word must've gotten to Voldemort about

Caretaker Filch's harsh treatment of him. His father's reaction was rather melodramatic all things considered. 'Was this what it was like to have an overprotective parent?' Harry wondered. He had seen Lucius Malfoy react extremely to complaints voiced by his son on more than one occasion that past summer.

As soon as they entered the common room, Vincent continued to drag him into their dorm room with Malfoy not too far behind. Goyle, having caught sight of them as they made their way through the crowd of gossiping Slytherins, quickly followed. "What does this mean?" Vincent hissed as he closed the door behind them.

Harry frowned at his rumpled robe but patted it down without much concern. "He must be here. In the castle."

"'He'?" Goyle said. "He who?"

Vincent sent a sharp gaze at the other boy. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"But the Dark Lord is dead!" Malfoy half-wailed, half-shouted.

Harry shook his head. "That's what the Ministry would have you believe. Hagrid doesn't for a second and he gets all his information from Dumbledore. If anyone would know about the Dark Lord's true demise it would be him."

Harry paused. If his father was back so soon then Harry would have to do something about the Headmaster and probably sooner rather than later. He still had no idea how he was supposed to go about convincing a Mage-class wizard not to interfere with the rising of a Dark Lord but it was the only way he could think of to help his father short of killing the man (and Harry was not fooling himself to believe he was anywhere near that strong of a monster to take on the defeater of Grindelwald). Besides, infiltrating the Ministry would take some time yet and that had been his back up plan.

"He's the only other Heir of Slytherin that I know of. I have to find the Chamber of Secrets and offer whatever aid I can. In the meantime, we need to keep attention away from him as much as possible. If my- Lord is in hiding, it is for a reason."

Harry's gaze slipped to Draco. Lucius Malfoy had renounced all claim of servitude to his father and cited being coerced under curse in the first place. If this was true, Harry could not trust his own safety to the boy until he knew for a fact where his loyalties lied. He passed his gaze to Vincent. The boy nodded and started planning with the others. (Which mostly consisted of curtailing Draco's complaints and convincing Greg that there would be time to eat more sweets later.)

Although the Crabbe heir had not been tested, Harry trusted him. Maybe not enough to reveal his true lineage ('A secret that I'm almost positive the Headmaster was aware of,' Harry thought while fiddling with the runic necklace he still wore despite having learned occlumency in the last year), but enough that he believed the boy did wish to serve his father once he returned. It left Harry to believe the Crabbe family in particular might be able to be trusted in the years to come if their heir was any indication. "Do you think he's waiting for something?" Goyle asked, looking fascinated by the entire series of events. "Like to see how the headmaster will retaliate with his presence in the school?"

Harry nodded in acquiescence. "Perhaps. But speculation will not aid us at this time."

"I agree," Vince said. "It is best we act as if nothing has changed until we learn more or are directly contacted by the Dark Lord."

Harry had to bite his cheek to keep the grin from his face at the mere thought of his father reaching out. If he was lucky he would be able to spend this summer solstice amongst family. (He wondered if they had a family manor like the Malfoy's or if it would be similar to Privet Drive and of a more modest size. If they were descendants of Salazar Slytherin then perhaps they had their own castle?) "Business as usual," Draco repeated, having finally calmed down. "Sure, that seems easy enough."

And it was. Until Zacharias Smith showed up petrified. Coincidentally enough Harry had an argument with the unpleasant boy only two days before when Lockhart and Creevey had once again waylaid him and Smith had provided colorful commentary. Harry had resisted hexing the boy for the slight but had used an overpowered disarming charm on the boy the very next day in Defense.

Only for the boy to show up petrified.

His father was not being as cautious as Harry thought a Dark Lord of his renown ought to be.

And of course the school was in a complete and utter tizzy. "Smith was a right arse, but he was a pureblood," Michael Corner said in herbology after the news had spread.

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked another ravenclaw girl that Harry hadn't actually met yet. (Which meant that her family wasn't particularly wealthy, powerful, or old.)

"The monster in the chamber of secrets is supposed to attack muggleborns," Hannah Abbot said. "Everyone knows that. It's Slytherin's chamber."

Harry frowned at his place next to Draco but did not say anything in his ancestor's defense. Today was one of the rare days that Professor Sprout had allowed them to choose their own partners and Harry was thankful for the respite. In any class he was paired with someone from another house he was questioned relentlessly about the heir of slytherin. Being a very poor liar Harry had been hard pressed to convince the others to drop the topic. He wished they were still on repotting mandrakes today if only so he wouldn't have to hear all the speculation the ravenclaws were throwing around about his ancestor. They were insatiable curious and didn't seem to operate under the word games the same way that slytherin house did that restricted outright saying what one meant. Instead he was casting a fire charm at a slug and expected to watch apathetically as it burned to a crisp. 'What is wrong with the world?' he wondered as a green flame flew from his wand and found another slug.

Upon being released the group headed to the lunch room where Harry had lost much of his appetite since breakfast. Even though he had had a slice of toast and two sausages that morning the news of Zacharias Smith's petrification during Transfiguration that morning had been unexpected. Harry wished his father would just speak to him rather than lashing out at anyone who had any simply disagreement with him. (Perhaps the monster had heard tale of a revenge plot from the hufflepuff and that was why he had petrified the boy?)

He could have handled a single boy's wounded pride. Especially one as full of hot air as Zacharias Smith. Despite hailing from an esteemed house he was poorly suited for the politics of the purebloods. Kevin Entwhistle was more of a threat politically speaking and he was a right foul git the likes of Draco when he was being especially horrid. (The man had no filter and often said the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time completely unapologetically. Harry wondered if the ravenclaw knew why he was always being jinxed?)

Did that mean his father didn't have faith in Harry's ability to take care of himself? To handle school children? If that was true then he would never expect Harry's aid in his return to power or the campaign that would follow. With that horrid thought effectively ruining his mood and decimating what was left of his appetite Harry stood. "I will go and reserve our table at the library for our free period."

Goyle was the first to look up from his food. "But you've barely eaten. You'll be hungry again before dinner."

"I'm still full from breakfast," he lied. Truthfully he hadn't eaten very much besides a bit of toast and some fruit at breakfast but if the rolling of his stomach was any indication (which he knew it was) Harry would be sick if he pushed the issue much further. "I will come with you," Draco said unexpectedly, wiping his hands on a napkin as he too came to a rise.

Harry frowned but shrugged in acceptance. It's not like he was trying to run away from his allies. He just wanted to stop thinking. Whether someone came with him to the library didn't change that he was going to pour over their assigned work until he had no need room for useless thoughts about his own ineptitude in the eyes of the monster that sired him. "Greg and I will join you after we finish," Vincent said by way of goodbye.

Harry nodded his acceptance and grabbed his bag and an apple (just in case) before heading to the library with Draco in tow. "Bad business about Smith, right?" Draco asked as they exited the noisy great hall and turned towards the moving staircases.

Harry began listing the sacred twenty-eight in his head and their wizengamot seats. He had gone through Abbot, Avery, Black, Bulstrode, Burke, and Carrow before Draco spoke again. "You must not be too upset about his petrification all things considered."

Seeing that the blond had no plans in ceasing this line of conversation (and much worse expected Harry to contribute) he made a soft hmm-ing noise before Draco's words caught up with him. "'All things considered'?"

Draco waved a hand in the air as they waited for the moving staircase they would need to take to the library to stop on their landing. "You and him did have a bit of a row last week."

"A disagreement," Harry corrected as they stepped onto the moving staircase, "That I came out the better for. There was no need for reprisal on my part. If anything he would have sought retribution if he was active in the school hierarchy."

Harry wasn't particularly active in the ranking system that the school as a whole operated under as it was more convoluted than the one within Slytherin house. Academics, house points accrued, club activities, alliances, friendships, all of this and more determined one's standing in the school ranking system and it was almost impossible to get a straightforward rank from those clustered together. Prefects, for instance, were generally the highest rank in their year unless they were especially dislikable (as was Helena's prefect yearmate was). If it was quidditch season and your team was doing well that could improve your ranking at the school but would not matter much outside of the season unless the house had taken the quidditch cup the previous year or was a contender for the quidditch cup this year. Sixth years were especially prone to being academically ranked as they had just taken their OWLS and were studying for their NEWTS and were on a potential career track if they were especially active in the hierarchy. Then there were the students that didn't really attempt to improve their ranking at all and were content to remain in obscurity. Unfortunately for Harry he was never an unknown and could not afford to remain apathetic to the perceived authority he would have in the school as a whole by next year.

He scowled at the thought of how busy he was going to be but Draco thankfully did not continue their conversation. Or at least until they had been sitting down in the library for a while. (Probably because Harry had been lulled into a false sense of security.)

"This is because of you, isn't it?"

Harry glanced up from his star chart to see Draco staring at him. They were still alone at their study table in the library. Vince and Goyle had yet to join them. "What is?"

"The petrifications. The Dark Lord. 'Enemies of the heir beware.'"

Harry set his quill down and made a point to control his breathing. Internally he was panicking but Lady Malfoy had showed him how to master his outward appearance. "You think I opened up the chamber of secrets? Without you and Vincent?" he asked with a perfect incredulous expression.

The blond frowned and glanced away. Harry internally cheered but of course the other wasn't done yet. "Well maybe not you specifically, but it is a bit of a coincidence, don't you think? You have an argument with Filch and the next thing you know his cat is petrified. You practically curse Smith and the next day he's solid stone too."

"It was hardly an argument. I didn't even know squibs existed before and that they were such a sensitive topic. He freaked out over nothing. And besides, Michael Corner and the Weasley twins have all had detentions with him since mine. If it weren't for that note on the wall I'm sure everyone would think the twins were responsible. And I wouldn't be stupid enough to actually attack Smith right after I'd gotten into a row with him."

If Harry hadn't gone running after invisible voices threatening to kill people, he wouldn't have been a suspect to begin with but it was a learning experience all around.

"You said it was a disagreement."

Harry's fists tightened under the table. "And it was. What good would it do for me to attack someone after I've already won? I know better than that, you've taught me better than that."

Truthfully, it should be attributed to Lady Narcissa the new state of calm he was able to achieve when he was insulted. He had never had much reason to act on it but he was self-aware enough to realize his temper was rather explosive. But Draco wasn't exactly unhelpful in Harry's assimilation into his place as an heir to a pureblood house. And if flaming the boy's ego kept him from discovering things that he should not then all the better.

"I suppose... it really would be childish of you to continue unless you wanted to declare a feud... And you're hardly vindictive enough for such a thing..."

'Got ya,' Harry thought before saying aloud. "If I was going to declare a house feud it would be against the professor. Me being magnanimous enough to let him bully me all year should speak for itself."

Draco rolled his eyes. "If you just apologized he would calm down. You refuse to admit fault in the whole situation."

And just like that Harry was able to work around Draco's remarkably clever mind. Honestly he had expected Vincent to be the first to start making assumptions but Draco wasn't the top of their year for nothing (or rather, tied with Granger with top of their year but everyone was careful to not mention that in their house). The rest of the day passed without anything more exciting than Lockhart's robes being charmed to flash like a disco ball (much to his horror and pretty much everyone else's humor). It appeared that their defense professor saw the spectacle as a sign his students held little respect for his impressive (and surely fictional) resume. Goyle came to dinner that night with rather interesting news.

"That idiot is actually creating a dueling club?" Draco asked in horror.

Goyle nodded his head feverishly with a grin that matched Vince's own. Harry often thought that the two boys had to have been close from birth to be so alike, but had never gotten a straight answer whenever he asked. "Not only is he starting a dueling club, but he's having Professor Snape help him with the demonstrations."

This caught Harry's attention (and everyone else's within a ten feet radius). Excited chatter ran up and down the table. While Professor Snape was hardly Harry's biggest fan at the moment, it would still be entirely too pleasing to see that blond fopp the Headmaster had hired be done in by the skill of the potions professor who coveted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. "When is the first meeting?" Harry asked.

He knew Vincent and Draco were definitely going and as long as Harry stayed out of direct line of sight of their potion's professor he should avoid anymore barbs the man hurtled his way. (Potions had turned into Harry's least favorite subject and only Draco's continued insistence on being his partner had saved his grades from plummeting due to his suddenly low marks on his homework assignments.) "Right after Yule hols," Goyle said. "Lockhart was going to have it this week but professor McGonogall got all in a huff about exams. It would've been pretty useless as far as hoping we'd learn anything especially useful but I reckon it was mostly so students could go home and tell their parents that the school is doing everything they can to keep us safe."

"A publicity stunt," Draco observed.

Harry snorted. "Yeah. That sounds like Lockhart alright."

Draco didn't seem to find the thought so amusing. "Even if he taught us anything useful, it's exams all next week and then Yule. We wouldn't have another meeting until next year. It would ultimately be time wasted where we could be studying."

Harry rolled his eyes. If things were different (that is, if Draco wasn't so biased and Granger wasn't so stubborn) the two would have gotten along famously. Harry had heard Longbottom bemoaning the study schedule she was enforcing on him and it sounded remarkably similar to the one Draco had insisted on. If the two ever put aside their differences than Harry could just push them into their own study group and would be left with more normal intellects like Vince, Goyle, and Nott. "Speaking of, we best be off Goyle."

Harry glanced between Draco and Goyle as the two gathered their bags and headed for the door. "Where are you lot off to?" he asked. It wasn't outside of the realm of possibility that Draco would go off on his own with one of the other boys in their year but it was definitely not something he often did. For the most part he was with Vince and Harry (or one of them, with or without others involved). Goyle in particular was generally wherever Vincent was.

"Potions brewing. Goyle's been having trouble with the forgetfulness draught and we have double potions in the morning," Draco said by way of explanation.

Harry shrugged before turning to Vincent. "I guess that leaves me and you with our transfiguration paper. Want to commandeer the best thomes in the library and watch the upper years glare at us?"

Vince smirked and that was answer enough. Both of them found great joy in making the third and fourth years fluster over a polite way to demand they stop claiming things they didn't particularly need. It was normally something as simple as a particular spot at meal times or the best study tables and materials in the library that were out of Madame Pince's line of sight. When they arrived into the library they promptly set their bags down on such a particular table before heading into the shelves to find Rigby's treatise on animate to inanimate transfiguration which although useful for their current lesson plan in the class was more advanced than they would need and probably very useful to fourth years who were focusing on inanimate to animate transfiguration theory. "Do you think Interdisciplinary Studies of Transfiguration and Conjuration would be useful?"

"And how would you explain your need for that if a fifth year comes looking for it?"

Harry frowned. "Good point. Much too easy for them. What are third years learning currently?"

Vince chuckled and shook his head in bemusement. Harry felt completely unapologetic. Several of the upper years had a lark at his expense more than a few times last year. This was relatively minor payback all things considered of what he was owed if Helena was to be believed. If the upper years complained about this too much they would be seen as weak and no one sorted into Slytherin house wanted that. It was worse than one's parents not being pureblood. (Harry had discovered early on that if it hadn't been for his fame and the esteemed status of the Potter bloodline he would have had a considerably less enjoyable time about.)

"Are you going to tell the others?" Vince asked as they continued down the aisle now well within the reference section.

"The others?" Harry was only half paying attention as he looked for transmutation texts. He was sure he had heard Daphne complain about the subject around this time last year and it wasn't like the professors ever changed their lesson plan.

"Malfoy and Goyle. Are you going to tell them the Dark Lord is your father?"

Harry whipped around too fast to play nonchalant but the question had taken him completely off guard. "What?" Harry tried to laugh it off.

Vince's stare didn't match the incredulous chuckle that Harry had asked the question. His classmate was completely serious. "Vincent," Harry began his mind racing. "You cannot possibly-"

"And why not? I am more observant than others assume. You give away more than you probably think you do."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. It was a tell, he knew it was, but Vince was driving him crazy. Draco could easily be fooled into believing that he was mistaken. Why couldn't Vince act the same way? Harry had thought the boy hadn't even noticed anything. "Give away what?"

"You said that the Dark Lord was the only other Heir of Slytherin," Vince said.

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he immediately called up his magic. This could not happen. One of the very few things that kept him safe was the complete anonymity he had thanks to his step-father's name. If it became public knowledge who his father was Harry would be under constant surveillance. It was fine enough for a few select people to know he wasn't a supporter of the Light, but the son of the Dark Lord? And there was only one way to guarantee that anyone with such a suspicion would remain silenced forever.

Harry had never cast the Killing Curse before. In fact, his research into the Unforgivables had been sorely lacking as no text discussing them gave the spell name. But any spell could be cast with enough intent and while Harry didn't want to kill his closest ally, he couldn't betray his father. The wards of Hogwarts didn't actually record use of wandless magic as even fifth years were known to have accidental magic if they were stressed enough (OWLS were known to be stressful). Harry would not be immediately at fault for the boy's death and with the petrifications going around no one would be too surprised. That's the loyalty you've been talking about. Your 'commonality' with the Dark Lord," Vince continued unaware how close to death he was.

Harry's throat tightened, but he felt magic tingling in his core. If he could channel it down through his wand hand, he was sure that something would come of it even without holding the holly stick.

He would not go back to the Dursleys. Not when his Father was so close and he could finally meet the monster that had sired him. "I am not beholden to my Head of House, but if you will have me, I would pledge myself to you."

Harry's head whipped up and he lost grip of the magic he had been channeling. It released in a brisk wind that rustled through the aisle of the library and wound around the corner. It was tinted worryingly green along its edges but did not seem to do much more than bring a chill to the air. Vince arched a single unimpressed eyebrow. Harry was a bit too dumbfounded to feel embarrassed. "You would swear fealty to me?" He had never had a vassal before and wasn't under any illusion that his Father's old vassals would serve him as well, even if they were still loyal to the Dark Lord.

"I do not know the Dark Lord nor what has become of him. Who I do know is Harry. And the man you will become."

None of what Vincent was saying was helping things make sense to him. Harry wasn't great by any means. He wasn't the smartest nor the strongest and if anything, he had a pension for getting into trouble at Hogwarts, a trait that Professor Snape attributed to his step-father of all things. He had probably lost his House more points than all the other first years combined last term and with his father persecuting anyone who so much as tried to give Harry a detention, more trouble was sure to follow. If it wasn't for his father, Harry would be no one. "I am no one, Vincent."

The Crabbe heir nodded. "Perhaps. But that will not always be the case. I would swear the oath now if I had the power to give it to you. As it were, the moment I reach the age of majority, you will have my service. Until then know that you have my loyalty, Heir Slytherin."

Harry sucked in a breath and flushed. No one had ever addressed him as anything that could connect him to the Dark Lord, to his father. He had never realized how much he had wanted it before that moment. Vince was kind enough to not comment on the tears that Harry shed in silence.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is nowhere near the monstrosity as its predecessor but I discovered why chapter eight was so long: I'm getting impatient. Or rather I cannot wait until Tom Riddle shows up so to make that happen faster I was trying to throw as much of year two into a chapter as possible which was a little crazy for me. I was getting overwhelmed trying to find a good conclusion for chapter nine only to realize that I could easily break it into three chapters just as well without tearing out my hair that I would run out of materials to maintain my update schedule. (So just imagine that chapters nine through eleven were one big update and you'll be in the right region of how big this chapter almost was.) Not to say that there will be no more big chapters like chapter eight. Just not until later.**

**So quite a bit goes on in this chapter. We see the opening of the chamber of secrets. Harry cannot ignore this like he ignored the philosopher's stone mystery last year so there will be more of this in the future as well. And Professor Snape seems to have a problem with our favorite chosen one but Harry is not taking the treatment passively. And most importantly, Vincent has discovered the secret Harry had been taking steps to hide but if anything it solidifies Vince's place at his side. Next chapter will consist mostly of the Yule holidays and the following month. There's some more interactions between Harry and Lady Malfoy, Helena shows up some more, Zabini is annoying as ever, and a bit of the chamber debacle.**

**Bonne Lecture**


	10. Chapter 10

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

As was turning into the case whenever Vince decided to say something that completely turned Harry's word upside down, the conversation in the library was never mentioned again. Harry felt the strangest sense of deja vu and wondered if every important conversation with the Crabbe heir would be like this? First the world domination talk in first year then he all but sworn allegiance to Harry as Heir Slytherin and still radio silence. ('I wonder what reality-altering conversation we will have next year...' he thought to himself while watching the boy for any outward revelation of his thoughts.)

((There was none.))

"You've been distracted all week," Draco scolded him on their way to Defense.

Harry, in all of his brilliance, miscounted the number of counterclockwise stirs to stabilize their potion and they had lost a size four brass cauldron because of it. Professor Snape had been quite descriptive in the ways he found Harry lacking. Only his tight grip on the unsheathed blade they used for dicing had kept Harry from responding. (But even now the blood still soaked the piece of his scarf he had used to wrap his hand. The winter robes made it easy for him to hide his injured hand but he knew he'd have to get Madame Pomphrey to heal it before long.)

((He also made a mental note to learn some medical spells. Adults tend to frown at injuries and messes. Several times the muggle school nurse complained to the Dursleys about his bruises and cuts and Uncle Vernon had turned purple.))

"Sorry," Harry answered, his gaze still fixed upon Vince.

Was he supposed to approach Vince again or act as if nothing had changed? Really, nothing had changed but Harry was kind of being run spare this term what with his father's over protectiveness, Snape's general dour mood, Zabini's overbearing nosiness, and now that the metaphorical cat was out of the bag with Vince it only made Harry more tense- especially after the crying session he had. (Which was in its own realm of embarrassing that only made him more concerned to show such levels of weakness to a housemate. Even allies could betray you if they saw enough gain for them in doing so.) "Wotcher Harrison!"

Harry groaned at the arm that slung across his shoulder. "Helena my name is Harry. We've been over this."

The sixth year girl just leveled him with a beaming grin. "So it's come to my attention that I have the honor of escorting you little terrors back to the dungeons after Lockhart makes a fool of himself. Lucky me, eh?"

"Nott's been harping on about you escorting us for the last few days," Draco frowned. "How have you only just been notified?"

She waved her hand about, as if finding the question unimportant. "I've more pressing concerns than who's babysitting you lot."

"Babies are we?" Harry arched an eyebrow. "I'll remember that next time you want help in Herbology."

In retaliation, Helena jabbed him in the side with the arm not placed over his shoulders. She had kept her claws long and sharp as always and the attack was a tad more painful than it had any right to be. Harry's own ultimatum of growing his claws in a similar fashion had been met with mixed results. While he had finally broken the habit of biting or picking on them he found that he was always getting dirt caught under them and he wasn't yet at the point of asking Draco or Queenie about those specific set of grooming charms to fix this issue. He had made a mental note to ask Lady Malfoy but always got sidetracked whenever he visited the posh Malfoy Manor. "Just because you're brilliant at herbology," Helena cut off his train of thought, "doesn't mean you're the only one I can ask. Don't get too cocky there Harold."

He ducked from out of her hold and sent her a smirk. "Cocky am I? I suppose I'll keep the supplemental notes on the similarities and differences between the snargaluff, venomous tentacula, and devil's snare to myself then, shall I?"

Helena's smile strained along the edges and Harry knew he had made his point. While she was a sixth year and training for NEWTS, Helena Dodderidge was absolute pants at Herbology. Harry, being the undisputed best at it out of the Slytherins and a particular favorite of Professor Sprout, was often begged for notes from the surrounding years. Helena had offered a trade of information last term that had been serving them both well. She would tutor him in upper year spell casting if he provided extra notes and research to her year's curriculum in preparation for her NEWTS. Seeing as she wanted to be an Unspeakable- the only NEWT requirements more difficult than becoming an Auror- she needed an O in her Herbology NEWT and had told Harry that he was her best bet on achieving that grade.

He had been skeptical initially on the veracity of that statement but he was already studying ahead in most of his classes and getting the extra help in NEWT level spell casting was not a boon he could so quickly ignore. "Don't be cruel," Helena frowned. "I've heard the venomous tentacula in greenhouse three likes to grope the girls."

Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't an apology but it also wasn't an escalation which was pretty much the same thing when it came to upper years. "You can have it after classes if you want. I need some help with destruction curses."

Helena arched an eyebrow but shrugged in acquiescence. "Cheers, Harrison," she called as a farewell before disappearing in the crowd of students once more.

"I still don't understand how you've gotten Devil Dodderidge to like you so much," Draco muttered under his breath as he came up to Harry with Vince and Goyle in tow.

Harry shrugged but inwardly he was a bit smug. It wasn't an easy feat for an underclassman to get a sponsor from the upper years. That Harry had two notable ones from two different years made him quite formidable in their political games. It allowed him to not be so active in the word plays and little barbs that was commonly traded amongst the lower years to exhibit superiority over one another. (Although that safety net was being a might less effective thanks to their head of houses' machinations...) "It's because he's so pretty," Goyle said.

This had the other three blanch at him incredulously. There were many things to describe a twelve year old boy. Pretty was not one of them. It was Goyle's turn to shrug. "I listen. The older girls talk a lot, you know. Isadora Perkins says that he's like a porcelain doll and Agnes Loughty calls him 'adorable'."

Both revelations had Harry's cheeks flushing in indignation. Rugged was an acceptable description. Handsome was an acceptable description. Hades, he'd take mundane, or unassuming as a descriptive for himself. But pretty?! "Girls are loathsome," he decided. "And I shall never marry one."

Vince and Goyle started laughing gaining the passing glances of a few students as they continued down the corridor. Draco was displeased if his frown was anything to go by. "Aren't you a little too old to use the 'girls will give you the dreaded lurgi' resolve?"

"I don't claim they're contagious," Harry corrected his ally. "I just cannot abide by their mannerisms. They're already terrors by themselves but when they group together there is no hope for us of the opposite sex and I find myself too often at their mercies when they do."

Memories of last year when Queenie had first claimed him as her sponsee brought up a few more horrifying memories. Nothing scarring, but plenty that made him feel as if he was missing something vitally important in the conversations that were spoken over his head (literally, in most cases as he had been several inches shorter than even the smallest third year girl). No, he was not going to marry right out of Hogwarts, the common practice for any well-to-do Heir Apparent. And if it turned out that women were always like this, he was going to wash his hands of this marrying business entirely. Formal alliances could take their place if negotiated well enough anyway. "And if it is decided you have to marry?" Vince asked.

"Being Heir Apparent of a house with no current head allows me quite a bit of a say in who I choose to pass my family name onto."

"But some paths you go down might require it of you," Vince pointed out, his stare especially penetrating. "It has been known to be a more publicly acceptable way of gathering a following than outright conquering. Such a method was utilized heavily in the sixties and seventies."

Harry finally caught onto Vince's meaning. When his father's campaign had first kicked off, it was common for Dark families to intermarry with one another to keep their allies close and the dissemination of favor from the Dark Lord even closer. It was how the Malfoy, Lestrange, and Rozier families had joined with the Black household. It wasn't unreasonable to expect the man to bring back that practice now that he was in need of strong and well-connected allies. Harry scowled at the older boy for pointing that out. "I will cross that bridge when I get to it," he said, effectively ending that string of conversation.

It was stupid that the first time Vincent had used his knowledge of the Dark Lord siring Harry as a threat to make him marry an insufferable woman simply for her familial connections. Harry was the heir of Voldemort for Merlin's sake! He had more use to his father than as a cheap ploy to gain the favor of some middling house and the very insinuation of otherwise kind of irritated him.

Thankfully, Goyle changed topics before Harry's downturned mood could infect the group as a whole. "Anyone want to place bets on what Lockhart will be up to today in class?"

This resulted in a chorus of groans and snorts not only from their group but from those surrounding them, including Neville Longbottom and Dean Thomas. "If he gives us one more pop quiz about which outfit he wore while saving some damsel in distress I think I'll obliviate myself," Thomas swore to the agreement of all the surrounding males.

Granger, notably being not male and not in the immediate surrounding, disagreed. "Professor Lockhart is an esteemed wizard that has spent his entire post-Hogwarts career dedicated to the opposition and education of how to deal with dark creatures that other, less experienced, witches and wizards might find themselves-"

"You're quoting his author's biography," Zabini pointed out, interrupting what was sure to be an extended quotation if Granger's history at regurgitating books was anything to go by.

The gryffindor flushed and turned away in a complete and utter huff to continue down the corridor and into the classroom. Harry couldn't say he was surprised but he had hoped Hermione Granger would be immune to the whimsical nature of their inept Defense professor. He supposed he should have expected the girl would indiscriminately put her faith in any published work (even one's as horribly pointless and meandering as Holiday with Hags).

This was further proof to validate his claim on not marrying right out of Hogwarts. If someone as down-to-earth and knowledgeable as Hermione Granger could be fooled then Harry wanted to avoid marrying one entirely. Idolization of questionable adults aside, she was a rather bemusing character to interact with. Harry had been entertaining ideas on forming an acquaintance with her ever since he learned the definite roles of the differing relationships. (Pursuing an alliance with a Muggleborn before their OWL year would not be met favorably with the other tentative alliances he had in the works even with Hermione being top of their class academically speaking. Furthermore, she was a bit of a know-it-all.)

Still, Harry couldn't help but find himself hoping to procure her as an acquaintance at the very least. Although there was no political influence to be gained from allying himself with her nor respect from the kind of crowd his father was sure to court once he made his return common knowledge, Harry saw gain for himself. Hermione Granger was smart and a wealth of knowledge. Furthermore she had the tenacity and dedication to pursue what would ordinarily be outside of her capabilities thus expanding her limits and surpassing them. She would be invaluable as an ally.

"Settle down everyone," Lockhart called as he strutted out of his office and posed in front of his desk. "I have a unique learning experience planned for this day's curriculum."

Today Gilderoy Lockhart was in lilac robes gilded in gold- probably as to not clash garishly with his golden locks and tanner skin tone. An unfortunate side effect of going shopping with Lady Malfoy (and spending any extensive amount of time with Draco outside of school) was that Harry became almost obsessively aware of wizarding fashion trends and what they signified. Which made it more disturbing that no one else commented that despite how inept Lockhart's words made him seem, his attire (although flamboyant) was akin to having a castle cloaked around him. The material and charms that his robes tended to be made out of were top notch and could probably deflect most basic hexes and curses. Although Harry could hardly believe the man had the skill to do everything his books proclaimed, there was no doubt the man had been involved with some nasty business in his travels.

"Today we will be going over one of my more recent adventures depicted in 'Year with a Yeti' where in the highest reaches of the Himalayan mountain range- after I'd rescued a village on the brink of total destruction at the hand of a fearsome for- I discovered a cave system-"

Harry zoned out of what was sure to be yet another soliloquy. Despite what his attire said about him, Gilderoy Lockhart was still a complete pillock when he waxed poetic about his own greatness (of which Harry saw very little). He was thankful that they were left to read some passage or another from one of his stupid books and write an evaluating snyopsis (less so when he was paired with Granger rather than Vincent, but it was still amenable). Granger even deigned to relocate to the seat next to Harry rather than try to wave him down.

Of course she couldn't remain silent and actually do the project though... "You know they think you've done it, right?"

Harry glanced up from his faux reading to see Granger focused on him. It had been quite a while since they've spoken- not since Sir Nicholas' Death Day soiree- and it was about time they had their little tête-à-tête. "What am I being accused of? Being a dastardly Slytherin leaves me so little free time in between my plots to sow mayhem and chaos."

She arched an unimpressed eyebrow but continued on. Harry was inwardly pleased by Hermione Granger's unflappable nature. It could serve her well if he were to ally with her as she was sure to see more adversity than even now when he did. 'At least I know she can take it,' he thought as her words washed over him.

"The other Gryffindors. They think you're the one causing the petrifications."

Harry wasn't surprised. His own house had the same suspicions but were much more apt at researching its validity. So far, no one had found any connections as there wasn't one for them to discover. No one knew who Harry's father was. (Except maybe the Headmaster but Harry had yet to confirm or deny that.) "And what do you think?" he asked.

Granger narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure. But something doesn't make sense about all of this. Most people would hate to be vilified for something so serious- you could get expelled or worse, close the entire school at this rate. Yet you've only denied being responsible for the petrifiations that first time and following that just let everyone say what they would."

Harry shrugged. He thought they'd gotten past this- her insistence that he was the root of all nefarious deeds that occurred- but it seemed Hermione Granger was rather tenacious. 'One step forward, two steps back,' he thought with a sigh. At least he didn't have to worry about forming an alliance this year.

"What are you trying to say Granger?"

"You're not resigned to it- that would indicate a level of reluctance that I haven't seen, but you're no less accepting as being branded the Heir of Slytherin."

Harry shivered. Ever since Vince's proclamation, he had begun calling Harry by that title whenever alone and each time Harry felt powerful. Like he was truly his father's son. When he looked back at the Gryffindor, her gaze was sharp and focused. Evaluating. "There's something about you Harry Potter."

Harry flinched at his last name and she narrowed her eyes once more. "Something," she repeated.

Harry wanted to curse. Unflappable was one thing and tenacious another, but this studiousness of hers was a problem. Granger was far too clever for her own good. The gryffindor proved just how much so when her eyes snapped to him in the next instant. "What did you hear in the corridor on Halloween?"

A flash of panic rushed across his face. It was gone in an instant, but she had been looking for such a show of emotion and seized hold of it like a viper. "I know you heard something. You ran off with Malfoy and Crabbe chasing you up the stairwell. I was right behind you when you left Sir Nicolas' party."

Harry was stuck in a conundrum. He could tell Hermione what he had heard and although he'd sound like a raving lunatic, she was likely to help him discover the origin of the strange voice. On the other hand, it had something to do with his father, and she was a muggleborn and a Gryffindor. Neither would do her any favors if she wasn't properly educated against stereotypes and biases that cropped up in that house. (The same biases and useless propaganda that populated any 'reliable' source of information about his father's reign.) But to correct her assumptions would be to ally himself with her...

Just thinking of what Draco had to say about that was enough to cause a headache. The blond had quite a bit yet to learn about his own misconceptions before Harry branched out his pool of allies (although he was pretty sure that the reason why he detested Granger so much was because she was smarter than him). There would be time enough to form an alliance with Hermione Granger in the years to come and as long as he wasn't antagonistic to her in the meantime, it shouldn't be too difficult if he ever decided to use her.

His mind made up, his thoughts calmed and he gave her a picture perfect innocently confused expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about.

"Granger seems to be a bit upset with you," Vince greeted their group when he found them in the library during their free period the next day.

Draco sniffed disdainfully and pretended he hadn't heard anything (his reaction to any mention of the Gryffindor Muggleborn after she bested his test scores in Charms on the first grades of the term). Harry, being the dutiful friend and having no intention of talking about the girl either, followed Draco's example. "I see," Vince smiled as he set his own bag down. "Well then, does anyone have their star chart handy? I've lost mine somewhere."

"You can have mine," Harry offered, using a nonverbal charm to summon his own from his bag. "I've finished our Yule project already."

"Cheers."

Draco glanced up from his charms text. "You are skilled at the summoning charm now. That's good. I'll be sure to tell Queenie."

"Don't bother. Lady Malfoy has agreed to take over my studies during the Yule hols. I'll be learning nonverbal charms with her these next few weeks. If I am proficient with all of our curriculum and next year's spells by the summer then Helena has agreed to start teaching me wandless spells."

"Impressive," Vince said. "You're a fast learner, that's good."

"He has to be," Draco added. "His education has been sorely lacking up until this point. It will be a blessing from his ancestors if he is allowed to be named Head upon his fourteenth year."

Harry smirked. "You're just hoping I will form an official alliance between houses Potter and Malfoy."

"I believe father is expecting it at this point. He'll be sorely disappointed if you do not sign the papers."

"If by sorely disappointed you mean likely to hex me for the insult..."

Vince chuckled. "Please. Lord Malfoy is more likely to hold a grudge."

"Father does not hold grudges."

Harry and Vince passed a conspiring glance between them but allowed Draco his beliefs about his sire. The blond was observant and more so he was intelligent. He would eventually see some of the fallacies of his own father in the years to come and lessen his hero worship of the man. Or rather that was what Harry hoped and Vince expected.

"It is as you say," Harry acquiesced.

Draco shot him a sharp glance at his easy agreement but seemed content at what he said. "Have you finished that Transfiguration paper yet?"

Harry groaned. "That woman is a slave driver. We're one step away from arithmetic sequences and alchemical transmutations in theory for this term. By morgana's grace I dread to see what our OWL years will look like in her class."

"Is that a no?" Draco asked with a befuddled expression.

"Oh he's definitely finished it," Vince answered with a smirk. "The only time he ever complains is when he feels the effort given wasn't proportionate to the weight the assignment has on his grade. You know that ancient runes is pretty much exactly like that right?"

This last he said to Harry directly who waved off the question. "Yes, but at least in that course you either do the assignment or miss out on theory that allows you to understand the next module. There's a purpose to their assignments even if they aren't weighted heavily."

"By that same logic it stands to reason that the same is true for Professor McGonogall's class," Draco pointed out as he cast a drying spell on his own essay. "Helena says we learn about the animagus as sixth years. I imagine it might be nearly impossible to succeed in the transformation if not for the alchemical transmutations you're bemoaning currently."

Harry didn't point out that they were four years away from needing this information in that case. It was obvious that the information would be revisited periodically in greater detail to be sure that even the most dense of them retained the necessary information by the time they finished their OWLS. It was an obvious teaching method that although effective made Harry loath the format that Hogwarts classes were organized in. If there had been an accelerated program- like the one Durmstrang was rumored to have- then there would be a class where such repetitive review was wholly unnecessary and Harry wouldn't be wasting time on rudimentary explanations of advanced concepts better learned in their entirety. (Of course this ignored the very real issue of the short attention span of the first through fourth years as a whole while experiencing the beginnings of puberty.)

But not everyone learns the same way and this was probably why there were cases every year of families declining to send their students to Hogwarts and instead focused on homeschooling. Harry was almost positive the only reason Draco hadn't been one of those cases was Lucius Malfoy's machinations on using his heir to form contacts with other influential families when their heirs were young and impressionable (and Lady Malfoy's hope that Draco would have a pleasant childhood surrounded by his peers).

"You've finished all of our assignments for break then?" Vince asked, bringing Harry out of his mental ramblings.

"Yes, yes. I will be ready to put my free time to something useful. I'm sure that Lady Malfoy has something especially difficult planned for me to undertake for the holidays. It is her belief that the struggle to achieve makes the act of learning more tangible thus reflective."

Draco scowled. "Perhaps you're not as fast a learner as we thought then. I've never found great difficulty with any of mother's lessons."

By the careful glance Vincent shot to Harry they both were under the same assumption. Lady Malfoy was a brilliant woman, but a doting mother. Anything that her son would especially find disagreeable she would have not pushed for him to learn. Which is why Draco's mind palace was literally an ostentatious depiction of Malfoy Manor while Harry's was a verifiable fortress reminiscent of Hogwarts with traps and defenses galore. Both were occlumency and both effective, but the only way to learn an especially offensive form of occlumency was to have your mind attacked repetitively.

It was a painful experience to say the least.

"Is your mother having a Yule Ball this year?" Vince asked to change the subject.

"Father has decided to," Draco jumped on the change of topic with veracity he always did when Lucius Malfoy was able to brought into the conversation. "The Minister and at least half the Wizengamot have already reserved their places at the head table. The ballroom has been sequestered off already and mother is in the midst of preparations as we speak. Your uncle is also attending, Crabbe. Your father hasn't responded to his own letter last I heard so you should mention it to him lest father gets offended."

Vince nodded. Harry glanced between the two of them not wanting to voice his question but knowing it wouldn't be explained if he didn't. The only thing worse than having no information was making false assumptions. "What is the significance of a Yule Ball? Is it like a festival?"

As expected, his allies looked at him askance. "Wow," Draco sighed. "I keep forgetting you're not a proper pureblood. But it's obvious isn't it?"

Harry frowned. No it was not, in fact, obvious. Sure it was a ball held during the Yule season but that hardly explained its importance, the observed customs of this particular ball that differs from other such events, if expected dress was a variation of formal wear (which it probably was. Purebloods absolutely adored having too many clothes). Harry felt his surly silence summed up all of this quite nicely. "In your families' case," Vince began, proving that Draco wasn't as apt at reading people as he claimed, "there are some differences that are important to note."

Their homework was forgotten in the impromptu lesson on Yule ball etiquette and traditions, of which there were two score that applied to the Malfoy family. Harry quickly discovered he would have embarrassed the entire family as their guest during the holidays if it weren't for this conversation. As expected, he did need an entirely new outfit outside of the ones he had already bought (Draco was more than excited to set a day to return to Diagon Alley for a new outfit) and a new cloak. They spent much of the train ride the next day going over the etiquette once more just to prove Harry had retained all pertinent information from the impromptu lesson.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked when the train began slowing down as it came into London proper.

Harry had already changed into more appropriate clothes after breakfast and donned the winter cloak lined with occamy feathers (that ruddy thing cost more than a cleansweep six!) he had purchased that summer. It was warm enough with built in heating charms that were easily activated during the more frigid treks to the greenhouses in winter. It was also Harry's single favorite piece of clothing he owned currently. "Of course," he said before coming to a rise.

"Don't get into too much trouble before I arrive, will you?" Vince gave as a farewell before him and Goyle took their leave.

"We would never," Draco frowned.

Harry laughed. "You mean your mother would never allow us to. She is militant about any mischief."

Draco sniffed and stuck his chin out in mock afront. "Yes, well she is a proper lady."

Harry smiled. That was something no one could ever question. Lady Malfoy was the epitome of pureblood lady and an example for all others born into the lifestyle. Daphne waxed poetic about her at any given chance (it was almost as bad as Draco's obsession with his father but Harry felt that the matriarch of the Malfoy household deserved the praise infinitely more).

When they reached the platform the Lady and Lord Malfoy stood apart from the bustling crowd, a small perimeter surrounding them where no one dared to step. Harry wondered offhandedly if they used a ward or if it was just the air of superiority the purebloods surrounded themselves with that caused the phenomena? Lady Malfoy's greeting pulled him from his wandering thoughts. "Harry. I am pleased you have returned."

Harry wanted to beam at Lady Malfoy but knew such a show of emotion was completely inappropriate for King's Cross. "Lady Malfoy. I am honored to be welcomed into your home once again."

"You may call me by my first name, Harry. We are past such rigid titles, are we not?"

Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning but noticed Draco didn't manage to hide his smug chin lift/smirk combo. Lady Malfoy- now, Lady Narcissa, Harry supposed- offering him the use of her first name was a level of familiarity that spoke of formal alliances and trust. It meant she saw his close relationship with their family as a boon to their bloodline rather than an asset to be utilized than discarded when no more gains were to be had.

It also meant that her husband would be expecting a formal alliance as soon as Harry became Head of his house Potter (and if his father was amenable, House Slytherin). And while the Malfoy family was by far the best house to ally with in the current political climate, Harry also looked to the future and he was sure he would have to convince them (Lucius and Draco probably more than anyone) that certain individuals were worth more than the names they carried and the blood in their veins. "Lady Narcissa," Harry said before his musing thoughts left too much of a pause in between her offer and his acceptance. "Blessings upon your house."

She nodded once, a pleased tilt to her mouth. "And to yours." The beautiful woman turned to her husband who looked on approvingly at his family's continual influence. "Shall we, husband?"

"Of course. Mister Potter, with me."

Harry's smile was a bit tighter as he grabbed hold of Lucius' outstretched arm.

Apparition. He abhorred apparition. (Plus he always felt horribly nauseous afterwards and didn't think the Malfoy patriarch would appreciate Harry vomiting on his boots.) Through luck- and the fact that Harry had nearly bitten his tongue through at the jarring landing- Harry didn't fall over or lose his breakfast. Draco, unfairly enough, appeared as if nothing was of concern, taking three careful steps forward with his mother. "You look a bit peaky, Harry," he smirked.

Harry sent a wandless, nonverbal stinging hex at the blond in retaliation. At his sharp yelp, both adults turned to stare pointedly at the two of them. "Draco," Lady Malfo-Narcissa said after a few seconds, "Please help Harry get settled in his quarters. Afternoon tea will be served in two hours."

"Yes mother," he said before shooting her a mischievous smile. "Come on then. Let's see if you remember your way to the East wing."

Harry resisted a loud groan. Draco knew damn well Harry got lost in his museum of a house. If it weren't for the fact that his room had an attached loo he was sure to have had at least one late night accident last Yule.

In the end he only took two wrong turns: once when he headed towards Draco's rooms instead of his own and a second time when he got turned around and started to head to the kitchen instead (Draco thought this was hilarious. Harry couldn't help but think that he was being rather stupid. After all, one never knew when exactly they would eat next. Expectations and reality were often incongruous when it came to food). It took them probably fifteen extra minutes by which time his trunk was already set at the foot of his bed and the fire blazing in the hearth had warmed up the room considerably. Draco left him to get changed out of traveling clothes (Harry rolled his eyes at the very thought that he needed to change clothes already) and disappeared off to his own rooms. This gave Harry some time to himself before tea which came in handy when he discovered that Draco and his father had absconded off somewhere to talk about 'heir business'.

Which translated into Harry's lessons with the matriarch starting a day earlier than he expected. "My son has informed me that you are in need of a more delicate instruction than the one I am already providing. It is his concern that you are... struggling with my current methods...?"

If the delicately arched eyebrow was not enough of a hint, the slight upturn of her lips told Harry that Lady Narcissa thought it was hilarious. Harry flushed in embarrassment as he tried to hide behind his cuppa. "We were talking with Vincent and Draco doesn't understand why I would struggle in your lessons when he does not."

"It stands to reason that I teach you and Draco differently despite the similarities in what you learn."

"Yes, Lady Mal-Narcissa," Harry hurriedly agreed, not wanting to insult. "But if I had told Draco that then he would have insisted on joining our lessons and learning the same way I do. He is not suited to this style, I think."

"Instead you allow your ally to operate under false assumptions and blunder around into compromising situations out of ignorance."

Harry flushed in shame. She was right of course (not like Lady Ma-Narcissa had ever been wrong in her life). Despite not be recognized by either the Ministry or magic, Draco was his ally. And as an ally it was Harry's prerogative to protect and aid the blond in any way possible that didn't harm his own household. Dealing with a pouting twelve year old was hardly the end of the world and if Harry was a little more mature he would have seen this. Instead he had omitted the truth that his mother was teaching them differently thus leading to false assumptions.

Such a thing could lead one to egregious mistakes in more important instances.

"It will not happen again," Harry vowed to Lady Narcissa, willing magic into his voice to show his commitment to the fact. "Never again will I intentionally withhold information from Draco for petty conveniences that are outweighed by the mistakes to be made by him due to misinformation."

For a precious few seconds the lady of the house looked completely bowled over. As if the lengths in which Harry had gone to make amends had surprised her for such a small matter. But to him it wasn't small. Harry had no one in the world- his father, a shadow that haunted the halls of Hogwarts, had been almost killed at Harry's involvement and probably only protected him now in order to dispense a proper punishment at a later date. Professor Snape couldn't even look at him without scowling. Helena and Daphne offered information more than anything but had been particular in letting him know that their aid was conditionally given.

Vincent and Draco were the only ones he had. Lady Narcissa (and by extension, probably her husband too) only aided him because of this. If Harry didn't treat this with the utmost gravity he would question if he truly understood the importance of the two. That couldn't happen. He would never allow himself to be complacent.

"Thank you, Harry," Lady Narcissa nodded with a small upturn of her lips. The smile might have been small but the praise was genuine and shone through her crystal gaze. Harry had impressed her. It took all Harry could not to beam at the Black heiress.

In the end, Harry felt that his relation with Draco's mother had grown by leaps and bounds in the days he spent training under her, learning advanced and obscure magic. (Nothing Dark, though. She said it was dangerous to begin that branch of magic without having mastered Occlumency as it was intoxicating and could lead one to their downfall. Harry was good enough at the mind arts but accepted he had a long way to go if he wanted to achieve a mastery title.)

When Yule proper began Harry was no longer surprised to see that he had been gifted with presents once again. Being at Malfoy Manor he received them in the order they were sent as was proper. Which made it all the more bewildering that Blaise Zabini had sent him a gift on the first day.

Inside it was a thome- a herbology text that smelled of lemongrass and sandlewood oddly enough. Within a few pages Harry could tell that it was exceedingly rare. Some of the ingredients listed were found in America of all places and getting any form of potions ingredients form the states was an arduous task Merlin forbid gaining information on said ingredients. It was speculated that the wizarding world as a whole only knew a third of the potential herbs to be found in the diverse landscape of the country.

Considering herbology was one of Harry's favorite (and best) subjects the gift was incredibly well thought out. Which only made it more confusing when he read the parchment attached to it. Ultimately, Harry didn't know how he was supposed to feel about the parcel from Zabini. If asked if there was anyone he outright disliked in their house the italian's name would be on the tip of his tongue. But the gift was granted on the first day of Yule. It was a sign of regard if nothing else- it was almost impossible to make such a thing a mocking claim unless the gift itself was meant to be the mockery. But that wouldn't change that it was a Yule gift.

"Who is that one from Harry?"

Harry glanced up to meet Lucius Malfoy's gaze. He had never given the Lord of house Malfoy permission to call him by his given name, but the man was used to getting what he wanted and probably didn't even see it as taking liberties with his wife's level of familiarity with him. Harry doubted it even occurred to the man that Harry wouldn't want to give him permission. "One of my classmates is seeking a non-aggression pact. Blaise Zabini."

Of course it was a non-aggression pact and not an offer of alliance. No one in Harry's position would accept such a thing after their history and if Harry did, it would prove he was naive and undeserving of his position of authority. "Zabini? I don't recognize the family name..."

"He is the son of Belladonna Coppola, the widow of the late Lords Russo, Zabini, Medici, Strauss, and Abara. Lord Abara passed just last year."

Lucius scrunched up his nose in disgust. Harry noted that this must be where Draco got the expression from. "Oh yes. Her."

Draco snickered as his father's tone. He made the very thought of Zabini's mother sound like an omen of death. Harry blinked a few times. Well considering her list of deceased husbands, perhaps she was.

"What do you think he's scheming?" Draco asked as he leaned forward to inspect the gift.

Harry handed it over unconcerned. Lady Malfoy and one of the house elves had cast detection spells over the lot before breakfast had been properly cleared away. There wasn't even a sticking charm left to cause mischief on the parcels. Which reminded Harry- "I don't think he's up to anything," he pacified Draco. "We aren't really antagonistic to one another. If anything this is an appeasement because of my informal alliance with you." With that handled Harry turned to Lady Narcissa. "My lady. I received an unusual parcel for Yule last year and wanted it checked before I opened it. Do you think you could check it over?"

"From last year?" she asked, more than a little confusion leaking through her voice.

Harry went to shrug but stopped himself mid-motion. It was a lazy habit and was detested universally by pureblood ladies. "The sender left me a note indicating it had once belonged to my father but not indicating who it was that passed it on to me. It was written with a charmed quill and seems unlikely that I was to discover who sent it with such little to go on. Considering who my father is, I thought it was prudent to at least check it for hexes and curses. To be safe."

"Yes your judgement was spot on," she nodded before turning to one of the house elves standing across the hall. "Mibby go and retrieve this parcel from Harry's items."

"It's in my trunk," Harry quickly added, "Within the potions compartment."

The house elf bowed low to the lady before disappearing with a snap. Harry enjoyed the way the creatures did magic and wondered if he could recreate such tactics. Once again Harry wondered as to the difference between magical humans and other magical creatures. The Ministry definition was complete hogwash and Harry personally supported Zou Yan's theory that all magical abilities were different pieces of a whole, one of the five elements. Each one was cyclical and transitional by nature meaning that there was overlap and eventual metamorphosis of magic between magical beings. (Unfortunately very little research was available to the public even if it was explored further, which Harry doubted in the case of the British Ministry. Most witches and wizards didn't like to imagine house elves, centaurs, and dragons as being their equals.)

Mibby returned at that moment a familiar parcel floating a few inches above her hand. "Mibby's be finding the gift, Lady Malfoy."

"Set it down right there," she instructed taking out her wand to begin casting.

Harry knew that Lady Narcissa was more than capable at casting basic detection spells wandlessly but figured she was doing some more advanced magic to make absolutely sure that it was safe. Harry appreciated the care in which she was giving his request. After a few minutes the lights emitting from her wand wained and she nodded to him. "There were several tracking charms and a compelling hex on it as well but I dissolved all of them."

Harry's gaze narrowed as she finally opened the parcel and levitated the item within. It was a cloak.

"It seems to be an old cloak. And there are no spells cast on it... Just the same it is magical in nature." Lady Narcissa's voice wavered off as she levitated the piece to Harry. "I don't think I've ever seen the like. Lucius, would you...?"

Harry kept his lack of faith in Lucius Malfoy knowing anything that his wife did not from his face and allowed the head of the house to inspect the cloak.

"This is fine material. It is cool to the touch- probably would mask one's heat signature when pulled up." He said as he ran a careful hand along the length of it. "But as you said there are no inherent charms added to it. Any magic it holds originates from the material and not any outside party."

Harry took that as agreement enough and grabbed it from the levitation spell that had kept it aloft, cancelling the magic as he did so. Harry was so entranced by his own inspection of the cloak that he missed the glance passed between the parents at his casual display of nullifying magic. "It looks a tad ornate," Draco observed as he came closer to see as well. "I wonder who its from..."

"The message said to 'use it well'. Kind of odd, that, for it to be just a silly old cloak."

"Try it on, then. We might need to have it tailored to fit properly," Draco urged him.

Harry rolled his eyes. Leave it to the blond to focus on the clothings appearance rather than the mysterious origin of its deliverer. He stood up and in a practiced move (drilled into him during the summer at the tag-team effort of both Draco and Daphne) Harry pulled it around his shoulders in one precise movement and clasped it at his neck.

"That's an invisibility cloak," Draco gasped.

Harry gaze went from Draco down to himself in surprise. His entire lower half had vanished! "My body's gone!"

"Those are exceedingly rare, Harry," Lady Narcissa said, coming to stand at his side.

"And exceptionally expensive," Lucius added, his face taking on a contemplative expression.

One look from his wife quieted any possible political ploys he hoped to maneuver thanks to his newly raised estimation of the Potter wealth. "But it's unlikely this belonged to your father," Lucius continued. "Invisibility cloaks are made of demiguise hair and deteriorate rapidly upon creation. They last, at most, five or six years under extensive dark preservation charms and when used sparingly. Even then, the state of disrepair makes it... shabby." He said this last word as if it smelled fowl.

"But dear, this material is thicker than demiguise hair. The texture is reminiscent of acromantula silk."

Lady Narcissa waylaid her husband's assumptions and effectively stifled whatever scowl Harry was going to direct at the man. As if Lucius Malfoy could even imagine the greatness of the Dark Lord. If his father wanted to create a true invisibility cloak then simple deterioration of the materials would be only a minor inconvenience at best. "But you said the charms were Dark. Weren't the Potters a Light family?"

Lucius frowned at his son but answered all the same. "The main house of the last two generations has declared themselves such but traditionally Potter is unaffiliated. It tends to be an even mix one way or the other with any given heir."

"Which is information you would do well not to repeat," Lady Narcissa warned them.

Harry and Draco both nodded dutifully. Both were well aware that talk of magical core alignment was taboo amongst magical folk. Speculation too often led to insult thanks to the social stigma against anything other than Light cores. Insult of such a personal nature led to blood feuds and the destruction of entire lineages.

She gave them both a soft smile before gesturing at the pile of papers with a flick of her wrist. Immediately the four house elves gathered at the edge of the room began setting everything back to rights. "You two enjoy the rest of your morning. We will continue your language studies this afternoon."

Harry and Draco passed grins between them before shooting off towards the entrance, Harry sparing a moment to banish the cloak back to his trunk. Lucius and Lady Malfoy gave each other another telling gaze. "He has gotten strong," Lucius observed as their voices rose into excited titters as they turned the corner.

His wife nodded. "So he has."

The eve of the third day of Yule saw the commencement of Lady Narcissa's grand ball. Harry and Draco were all but ordered to remain in their rooms following lunch and to not change into their robes until right before guests were to arrive. Harry, as the families' guest, would have to stand with the family to greet the guests as they arrived. (The self-satisfied smirk in which Lucius delivered this news had almost made Harry fake an illness of some sort just to spite the man. In the end he had abstained. After the horror of purchasing his Yule robes he was surely going to at least wear the ensemble.) Harry and Draco spent the time quizzing one another over their rudimentary knowledge of ancient runes that between the two of them managed easily to equate a third year's curriculum with a few topics of a more advanced nature. Draco was fascinated with the inner workings of spells and enchantments and if Harry wasn't sure his father would absolutely forbid it, his blond ally was sure to pursue it to mastery.

As the dinner hour etched closer Draco left Harry to finish the infernal concoction that was his hair care routine in peace. He had been lax the last few days and his curls had begun to return to an unmanageable main once more. Draco had laughed so hard he had nearly fallen out of his chair when Harry had come down to breakfast that morning. Lucius had not been half as amused but Lady Narcissa's lips had curved up into a gentle smile. Even with her good humor at his hair's current state Harry was under no illusion that it would be even remotely acceptable to actually attend the ball with it like this. He had lathered his hair heavily in the Not-A-Knot Hair Mask after he had washed his hair and left it to sit for a good twenty minutes longer than necessary. He had found early on that the simple fifteen minute prescribed time would only temporarily tame his hair. At the first sight of water it would flop up again whichever way it wished. If he wanted to keep the curls manageable past the first wash he had to leave it on for at least thirty minutes. (On a side note, he had also learned one horrible weekend that if he were to leave it on for an hour his hair would be as straight as Draco's and would refuse to revert back to anything near its previous state for a dozen washes.)

He had only just rinsed the mask out and was towel-drying his hair (Draco had screamed the first and only time Harry had used a drying charm) when a pop echoed through the room, signaling a house elf had entered. Harry glanced around and was surprised to see that it wasn't Mibby that had come to call him but one completely foreign to him.

"Hello...?" Harry said when the elf simply stared at him with wide eyes and shaking ears.

"Mister Harry Potter, sir! It is an honor, it is!" The house elf squeaked out and bowed heavily, its ears brushing the ground.

"Oh," Harry said, confused. House elves were normally very eager to provide a service to a wizard but never before had one greeted him in such a fashion. Admittedly he had a limited experience with the magical creatures but Harry had seen them around the manor enough times to have at least an understanding of how they normally act. "Are guests arriving already? I will be a few more minutes, but I'll hurry."

The house elf lurched up and fixed him with large watery eyes the size of tea cup saucers. The house elf sniffled a few pointed times and Harry hurried to stop whatever tirade it was going to go into. "What is your name?" he asked hurriedly.

Unfortunately this had the complete opposite effect on the creature. It broke out into large howling sobs that shook it's thin body. Harry flinched back and hat to bite down his reflexive apology. Draco had warned him to never apologize to the creatures and Lady Narcissa had further explained that it tended to result in the little creatures having any number of reactions, none of which were conducive in having them perform their requested task. The Lady had given him lessons on how to address them properly. "Attend!" he commanded and the house elf lurched up to fix its watery eyes on him.

It still cried but had stopped howling and was waiting for further orders. "Tell me your name."

The house elf wiped his eyes hurriedly with the back of its hand before bowing low again. "I is being called Dobby, Harry Potter sir. Lady Malfoy has been putting me as Mister Potter's personal elf"

Harry nodded once and smiled in relief. It was astounding that Lady Narcissa had assigned him his own house elf and was further proof that she not only favored him but held him in high regard indeed. His smile turned into a beam the longer he thought on it. House elves were not a symbol of wealth, like those without the proper knowledge automatically assume ( cough, cough-GRANGER- cough) but rather a sign of old and potent magic. The kind regaled in stories of the time of the founders. Magic so rich it is entrenched in the land estates and manors are built on and feeds natural wards stronger than even those created by the best wardmasters in the world. Wards like those that cloak Hogwarts. Not just any family can have a proper wizarding estate nor can just any house contain house elves. The elves are bound to the magic of the family, to the bloodline. They are sustained by it.

Having house elves is not a show of wealth.

It is a blessing of magic.

That Lady Malfoy would bestow upon him a personal house elf shows generosity and courtesy of a level Harry had not known he deserved from anyone. It was so astoundingly humbling that he almost couldn't breathe through his own awe. More than a few minutes have passed by the time Harry collects himself again and continues to get dressed for the evening's festivities. "Have the guests started to arrive?" he croaks out through the lump in his throat.

"No, Mister Potter sir."

Harry nodded. Good. He'd need an extra minute to calm his thoughts before rejoining Draco. The nosy blond was sure to notice immediately that something was amiss if Harry were to leave immediately.

He got dressed with careful efficiency of movement, taking his time so as to calm the flutter of emotions that zipped through his outer occlumency shields like golden snitches. Happiness and delight were perfectly fine in small doses but mixed with a smattering of humility, self-depreciation, and unworthiness was a toxic mix to have floating around for any decent legilimens to pick up. The more calm Harry felt the more he noticed the nervous jittering of the house elf. For one, it was odd that the he had waited in the room rather than returning to his other duties until he was called or needed to perform a task. None of the other house elves Harry had seen so far had lingered on in such a way. (Well except when commanded to... Had Lady Narcissa told him to remain at Harry's side? For what purpose?)

Harry shook his paranoid thoughts out of his head and turned to the elf. If Harry was seeing him right he looked pretty young, probably a young adult by house elf standards (but that could mean he was anywhere from twenty to fifty years old). It was getting him nowhere running circles in his own head. Harry'd just ask the house elf and be done with it. "Why are you still here?"

The elf jumped to attention and took serveral short steps forward in an eager fashion. "Dobby has news! News of a terrible plot!"'

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't expected that. "What terrible plot?"

"Bad things, terrible things are happening at Hogwarts. It is not safe there for Harry Potter."

And just as quickly as the house elf had incited his apprehension all tension left his body. "You mean the Chamber of Secrets being opened?"

Dobby let out this half-squak, half-screech sound and began wringing his ears. "Yes," he hissed. "You know, you know it is not safe there. It is not safe here. Harry Potter must return to his own family!"

Whatever good humor Harry was willing to extend the creature dried up at the last sentence. There was no one in any world that would make him return to the Dursleys if he could help it and certainly not a house elf. "No," Harry growled out, baring his fangs and just daring the creature to continue its odd rambling. "Dobby you are to speak about this to no one else."

The house elve's eyes widened and filled with unshed tears. "Ever!" Harry continued panic curling low in his stomach. "You are not to mention the chamber of secrets to anyone ever again, do you understand?"

If Lady Narcissa believed Harry was in danger she would do what she thought was best, even if it was sending him to the Dursleys. That could not happen. "Dobby, do you understand?" he asked again when the elf seemed to be on the edge of a mental breakdown.

"Yes," he sobbed and bowed its head low, still clutching tight to his ears. "Dobby won't tell another soul."

Harry ignored the creature's fit and pressed on. "And you will not act on the information you have. You will do nothing beyond the wards on the Malfoy Estates unless expressly requested by one of the Malfoys, do you understand?"

"I understand Mister Harry Potter sir," he squealed from his huddle on the floor.

"Good." Harry stared at the elf for a few more moments but could not calm the tightness in his core where he still feared that he hadn't done enough. He would have to calm his mind again (and pursue a higher level of occlumency if it was so easy to take him off guard).

Just then a knock came at the door and Draco let himself in. "Mibby says guests will be arriving by the end of the hour, are you ready?" Upon catching sight of the quivering and sobbing pile of house elf in his parlor Draco arched an eyebrow. "What did you do thank it?"

Harry sighed. It looked like he wasn't going to get the reprieve he so needed. "Ignore him," Harry requested as he headed to the door. "I'm ready so let us go find your mother."

The rest of the Yule holiday passed without anything of note occurring- although Draco had received a Nimbus 2001 and had practically bowled his mother over with his excited hug. As soon as Vincent had come over with Crabbe the four of them had oohed and ahhed over the broom. If it hadn't been snowing non-stop all break Draco would have probably taken it out for a test run. Luckily Lady Narcissa had absolutely forbade it as not even warming charms would protect them from the frozen bite of the wind.

Returning to Hogwarts was akin to coming home after an enjoyable vacation. Daphne had rode in the carriage up to the castle with them and had shared anecdotes about her family's holiday in France. (A quarter of which was told in French and was riddled with vocabulary that Harry had no hope of recognizing, even if Daphne had spoken slower.)

The return feast was as grand as always- the Headmaster as barmy as any other announcement he had ever made in Harry's recollection- and the company pleasing. Zabini made it a point to greet Harry to reaffirm that Harry's owl agreeing to a non-aggression pact was in fact still valid. (This greeting was cut short by Draco's own way of greeting the Italian that ended with the blond scowling and Blaise smirking.) There was no mention of the petrifications- meaning no one had been attacked whilst the school was mostly emptied of students.

As soon as Harry stood to leave the feast- Draco already into another argument with Blaise with Vince and Crabbe acting as referees (or more likely scouts for nosy prefects)- he was waylaid by Helena who had an uncharacteristic serious expression on her face. She spoke before he could get off an inquiry. "The headmaster wants to see you during your free period tomorrow."

Harry couldn't say he was surprised. If anything, he would have expected the man to have called him in for questioning long before now what with the two petrification victims being people (or in Mrs. Norris' case, connected to people) Harry has had notable disagreements with. At least half of the school passed him speculative looks throughout the day and a quarter of Slytherin house was waiting for him to either confirm or deny his involvement in the entire situation. "Thank you, Helena."

His quick acceptance didn't change her sober expression. If anything she looked more grave. "Harry, he wants to meet you alone," she stressed.

Harry smirked. "Of course he does. He suspects I've petrified a student and a staff's familiar and happen to know where the chamber of secrets is located and how to enter it. None of those assumptions he wants anyone to be able to say under oath are ones he has against a second year student, much less the Boy Who Lived. Plausible deniability is his friend in this situation and furthermore with me being a minor I can neither testify under oath against him nor be dosed with veritaserum unless I am being directly prosecuted."

"He's a skilled legilimens and in close range that necklace won't be completely effective," she hissed out, her eyes widening and ruining her attempts at maintaining an aloof mask.

Harry took a moment to ponder over his mentor. Helena was giving away far more than she usually did and it was a novel experience for him. She was worried about Harry, worried about what secrets he held and what the headmaster would do if he discovered them in his unprotected mind. Her worry, flattering as it was, was unwarranted. Although far from a master Harry was more than skilled enough to prevent easy access to his mindscape. Anyone breaking in would have to put forth some minimal effort, an effort that leaves a lasting mark for any competent mediwizard or healer to notice and report as mandated by law when it pertained to minors and mind magic.

If Dumbledore wanted access to his secrets he was going to have to get his hands dirty to get them.

But none of this was ultimately what Helena was concerned about. She was easily able to deduce the same with a mere thought and would know there was no satisfactory way the manipulating headmaster could win in this situation. Which meant she was concerned that simply knowing what Harry kept within his head was damaging enough in its own right. He gave the sixth year another cursory glance. 'Just what exactly does she expect I'm hiding...?'

It was one thing for Vince to know who his father was (and considering the boy had all but sworn fealty to Harry after he had revealed that bit of information, the information leak could be excused). But for other Slytherins to know? And was that what Helena knew or was it something else?

Did she know he was part monster?

That he could speak parseltongue?

That the Dark Lord was hidden away amongst the depths of the school plotting petrification for anyone that so much as looked at him improperly? (Which stood to reason that Lockhart might be in a spot of trouble himself, a pleasing thought.)

Harry shook his head to clear the rambling thoughts away. Whatever she thought she knew, it wasn't going to aid him at this time. And he doubted she'd be accommodating enough to just tell him outright. "I will take the proper precautions. Your necklace is not the only line of defense I have against his machinations."

It was unlikely that his word had pacified whatever concern she had but it did serve the purpose of letting Helena know she had done all she could to impress upon him her concern. Now it was up to Harry to arm himself accordingly.

Draco was most curious as to the topic of their discussion and more to have a bit of fun than out of any negative feelings Harry decided he wasn't going to tell his blond ally what had transpired. By the time it reached their free period the next day Harry had left Draco with yet another ambiguous reason as to why he and Vince would meet him later. The older boy was downright pouting. "You needlessly antagonize him," Vince pointed out as they stopped in front of the gargoyle that signaled the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Why not tell him where you are going?"

"Because not everything is Draco Malfoy's business. Besides it's just a bit of fun," he shrugged before remembering that he wasn't supposed to.

Vince rolled his eyes in answer to Harry's assertions but waved him away to speak to the old cook that was their headmaster. Truthfully Harry wasn't sure what he was to expect of this summons, but in his mind it was more of a meeting of adversaries- of individuals on two opposing sides. The offering of sweets and the genial twinkle in the old man's eyes grated on his nerves in a way he wasn't prepared to handle and he turned down the offer a tad more uncouth than was probably prudent. It was plain to Harry that Albus Dumbledore saw him as nothing more than an insignificant child. His next words proved that all the more. "It has come to my attention that you might be in a precarious situation, my boy."

Harry blinked unabashedly at the Headmaster, ostensibly in feigned patience but in actual boredom. As in a physical manifestation of the emotion. (It was either that or irritation at the waste of his time when he could be studying.) If he wanted to drag Harry to this farce of a meeting with his faux concern for his well being he was more than welcome to waste his efforts. The slytherins would have a lark over the mere idea that the headmaster was concerned for a serpent. In his head, Harry was already narrating how he would deliver this story. 'Well the old man sat me down right proper in one of his cushioned chairs and offered me one of his sweets. Poisoned, probably.' (He wondered why the narration he created in his head sounded an awful lot like Draco...?)

"Well?"

Harry blinked and realized he had become entranced with one of the Headmaster's baubles while off in his own world. This one looked like a cross between a sneakoscope and a remembrall. The fog was pastel blue- almost periwinkle- and pulsed at a steady cadence. Almost like a heartbeat...

"Harry?"

Now that did get his attention. "I did not give you permission to use my first name," he scolded the man, almost reflexively. Of course, he immediately regretted his quick tongue but it was already out there. Which made the fact that the man merely nodded his head in acceptance suspicious.

Truly it was in poor taste that the old man had attempted a level of familiar address that he arguably could have claimed by right of Headmaster if Harry hadn't already made it perfectly clear to the man he wanted no part in any positive relation he might pursue. Dumbledore had visited him in the hospital after Draco and Vincent had been discharged and had attempted to speak with him about what had transpired beneath the school. Harry, however, was more than aware it was in his best interest to keep his plans for the philosopher's stone secret and had been quite short with him in turn.

It was laughable the man thought that his stance had changed any through the course of this year.

"Now, dear boy, there's no need to be so ruffled. You do not stand accused of any crimes as of yet. I simply wanted to hand you the opportunity to discuss anything of importance."

Outwardly Harry probably looked some facsimile of calm. Inwardly he seethed. 'Not accused yet? Hand me the opportunity? Does this old man hold such little regard for the slytherins that he would say this bullshit and call it diplomacy or is it because of my father that he is so discourteous?' "I assure you that anything I would wish to say to you, I have already told my head of house. As is expected." And it didn't hurt that he greatly disliked Professor Snape at the moment making the statement more true than not. Master Leglimens' were capable of detecting lies as they were spoken without any use of magic. A boon of reaching such a high skill level, to be sure. Professor Snape used it as grounds to be more antagonistic to Harry seeing as Harry was incapable of addressing the man respectfully and honestly at the present moment.

Any further musings Harry had about his disdain for the two men was derailed by a familiar sensation of pressure behind his eyes. He sucked in a tight breath of irritation and resisted the urge to leap up from his chair in indignation. There was no mistaking it. Albus Dumbledore was testing his occlumency shields. Nothing so pointed as actually seeing past them but a passing glance that would have been more than enough to gather surface thoughts and opinions had Harry not been previously trained.

Which was insulting on so many levels that he thought Harry hadn't and furthermore that he could get away with this.

"There is no reason for your... consideration to fall upon me. I have nothing to report to you... sir," Harry spoke through gritted teeth, trying to mentally recite the sacred twenty eight houses, their number of seats on the wizengamot, and their political designation.

It did very little to calm his raising ire.

Dumbledore tilted his head forward to gaze at him over his glasses. Harry had to bite his tongue to restrain a sharp hiss of disapproval. It was a belittling tactic and a childish one to boot. Gazing down pointedly at Harry- over his sodding spectacles- was a way of accenting how much smaller Harry was to him. Both physically and politically. It made Harry seem all the lesser for not capitulating to his much older and wiser headmaster. "And still I must ask... is there anything you wish to tell me, my boy?"

Harry felt the manifestation of the headmaster's mind graze along his occlumency wards once again and this time he physically bristled. This was not a casual touch. This was a pointed jab. A probe for weakness.

'Fuck you,' Harry thought in a vicious and unexpected bout of anger, 'Fuck you and your meddling ways old man.'

But these thoughts were safely hidden behind his mental wards. Outwardly Harry spoke with the clarity of flawless glass. "No, sir."

His voice was a bit more forceful than it had been moments prior but it was still an acceptable concession. Professor Snape had been met with more questionable tones in the most recent term. He stared at Harry for a few seconds more, his grubby presence at the edges of his mental wards growing more pronounced with each passing second before finally he pulled back.

Harry was so mad he could spit.

"Very well, Mister Potter. You may return to your studies once more."

Harry was up and moving before he was even done with his first sentence. When he reached the bottom of the gargoyle a sharp glance to Vince, who had been waiting for his return, kept the older boy silent. The pace Harry set off down the corridor ate up the stone floor faster than if he had flown down the hall. Wisely, his ally did not question the meeting. Harry's ire was so great he was sure to unleash his fury indiscriminately at this point. 'He would dare!' he hissed in his head in mounting frustration. 'And then to keep attempting as if he just hadn't tried hard enough to lay siege to my mind!'

"Wotcher Harry!"

Harry actually growled. Thankfully the bustle of the other students in the hall and the fact that only Vincent was close, kept the sound from being heard by others. That didn't mean Harry couldn't feel Vince's piercing gaze as Colin Creevey came up to his side. "I heard you spent Easter here last year, are you going to again? We could play exploding snap if you want or I'm sure Ron would let me borrow his chess board."

Harry internally snorted. It was seriously unlikely that Ronald Weasley would let anything he owned near Harry. "I am not in the mood," Harry said through gritted teeth not slowing down in the slightest.

"Right you are Harry," Colin Creevey chirped, still jogging a few steps behind the group Harry led to the Great Hall. "'The pressure of fame are a burden on one's shoulders when given the proper gravity.'"

Harry grinded his teeth. The nuisance is obviously quoting Lockhart's stupid arse which does very litle to improve his downturned mood. It was like he was purposefully trying to piss Harry off. "Don't you have studies to get to?" Vincent attempted to waylay the first year as Harry's agitated pace brought them to the Great Hall where Draco stood waiting.

Upon catching sight of them he turned away his own cadre- Parkinson, Nott, and Boot- before joining them. At the continued pace he raised an eyebrow. "Where's the fire?" Draco asked.

"Oh is that where you're going?" Creevey jumped in before anyone else. "Off on an adventure then? More of a Gryffindor trait than a Slytherin one, but you're Harry Potter. Saving innocents and defeating dark lord is kind of your thing!"

'Oh that. Is. It.' Harry turned on the balls of his feet and gripped his wand firmly where it appeared from his holster. He didn't dare raise it, not with so many witnesses, but the threat was still there for the gryffindor to see. "Listen to me and listen well Colin Creevey," Harry vowed in a cold, dangerous voice. "You will leave my sight by your will or mine. It is your choice."

The bouncy first year blanched white and took several steps back. Harry narrowed his gaze at the Gryffindor and that alone had him release a high squeak and sent him running back the way they came. He watched his blond curls bounce around the corner and only then did Harry turned to face his allies. Even Draco, who had been very audible about his disdain for the little stalker once he had realized that 'Creevey' was not an obscure half-blood house of little importance, looked a bit peaky. "What?" Harry spoke pointedly through gritted teeth.

He knew he wasn't being calm, wasn't being wise. A big portion of his occlumency lessons had required Lady Narcissa to bring some of his more unpleasant memories to the forefront of his mind and have him calm his thoughts despite them. It was essentially trial by fire and positively the most effective way to learn to keep an appropriately calm facade when partaking in the political games of purebloods. Yet and still the Headmaster's actions rankled him in a way that the Dursley's had never succeeded at.

The mystery of his irritation's truth only made him more upset. "Whatever," he grumbled as he decided to head instead to herbology.

Professor Sprout spent almost all of her free time in greenhouse three tending the mandrakes. With the source of the petrifications escaping the staff the only solution they had was to wait for the herbs to mature so they could be used in a potion that would cure the victims. The master herbalist was excited to see so many students show up to class early and the rest of the day passed without anyone daring to bother him about his foul mood (except Zabini but he was likely an idiot).

Which stood to reason that Harry should have been prepared to be waylaid by said idiot on their way to History of Magic the next afternoon.

He wasn't, however, prepared for the news he brought with him.

"There's been another petrification."

Harry's steps faltered at Blaise's words. It was a rookie mistake and the others noted it as well. It was this careful observance that Harry detested the most about his house. They were always looking for signs of weakness or things to exploit. A half-overheard conversation could be a wand to one's throat ten years from now. This one perceived misstep would be noted and remembered. Harry continued down the corridor to History of Magic. "Oh? Has Caretaker Filch joined his cat?"

"No. Colin Creevey."

Harry was more prepared this time, but he knew the absence of emotion on his mask was just as telling. Inside he was swearing. Colin sodding Creevey. He could understand that his father was trying to help, but did he have to be so obvious? "Who?" he asked.

Draco glanced at him but continued forward at his side. Zabini wasn't fooled either. "You know. First year. Gryffindor. He's been stalking you all term, taking pictures. You've hexed him twice already."

"Ah. Yes, him. I'd almost forgotten about him. No wonder he didn't ambush me at breakfast this morning."

"I'm sure your threat yesterday morning had nothing to do with it at all," Zabini quipped back.

"Zabini," Harry said in warning.

As he was prone to do, the italian merely smiled pleasantly and changed the subject entirely. "The first Dueling Club meeting is today after dinner."

Nott groaned. "I was excited to go, but then my cousin tells me that she's the one assigned to make sure our year returns to the dorms in one piece come the end of the meeting."

Harry was surprised to hear that. The only time they had escorts as second years was once a week during astronomy practical, but that was only because they had to travel from the Western tower all the way to the dungeons. It took almost thirty minutes to get back to the common room after lessons and of course the prefects wouldn't let them wander along on their own. But the club meeting was occurring literally right after dinner and should conclude well before curfew. "Right. Professor McGonogall says they endeavor to keep an eye on the students. These petrifications are a nasty business for an independent institution like Hogwarts," Zabini observed as he came up to join their group heading to Binns' class.

"We're being escorted back to the common room?" Goyle asked.

"Not just that. They're changing curfew to six."

"Six?!" Harry whined. "Not even the library is closed that early."

"Well it is likely to be now," Draco frowned. "Everything is shutting down before dinner and after dinner we're to go straight back to our common rooms. The only reason the dueling club is probably even being allowed is because it will potentially teach us some helpful magic to protect ourselves."

Nott caught on faster than the rest of them to what the escort after dinner meant. "They've cancelled all the clubs? What about evening quidditch practices? Doesn't our team practice after dinner?"

"Not anymore," Zabini grinned. "Everyone has to do their activities during daylight hours. Professor Snape gave the team permission to take Gryffindor's spot during the Saturday morning and Tuesday and Wednesday afternoon slots. It forces them to practice at daybreak twice a week. You should have seen Oliver Wood's face when he heard."

Harry couldn't help his own smile. Leave it to Blaise to already have that type of information. Harry had only been to a handful of quidditch matches last year and hadn't expected to attend many more this year, but without the mandatory flying lessons first years were allowed he would miss being in the air. He'd probably go if nothing else to prevent himself from going stir crazy. And gather intel of his own. There was bound to be plenty of gossip in the stands and if Harry was extra careful he might even determine who his greatest adversaries were. Bulstrode and Nott weren't active in house politics (not like it would matter with Nott's cousin declaring herself as Harry's sponsor). Vincent, Draco, and Goyle were allied to him and Blaise had just finalized their non-aggression pact. And speaking of... "Goyle," Harry said turning to the taller boy, "Where's Vincent?"

"He was sent to the hospital this morning. Some of Finnigan's explosive potion got on him and burned right through his robe. Don't you remember?"

Harry hadn't. The odd voice had been echoing through the walls again and had completely distracted him for several seconds. Luckily their potion had been settling away from the fire for some time otherwise Harry and Draco might've found themselves experiencing their own explosion. "Ah yes. Now I recall," Harry said instead and hurried off to class.

History of Magic wasn't as uneventful as Harry had hoped it would be. Hermione Granger, as she often did, wanted the answer to everything in life and the mystery to the Chamber of Secrets was no different.

Harry, for his part, was agitated.

That girl kept poking her nose where it didn't belong- and who did Professor Binns think he was assuming he knew what went on in the mind of Salazar Slytherin? A monster, indeed! Harry for one hadn't grown up in this mysterious chamber and doubted his father had spent the last decade hiding away in the halls of Hogwarts for the ambiance. No, everyone, once again, was proving themselves to be complete and utter simpletons. Not even his own house was spared. "Who do you think opened the chamber?" Goyle asked with a conspiring smile as they headed to dinner.

Draco did his 'I'm-someone-important' chin lift and sniff combo. 'My father...' Harry thought. "Well I've sent a letter to father and he will relay all the important details."

Harry rolled his eyes. It was something Daphne found uncouth but when it came to Draco Malfoy's father-worship exasperation was a reflex at this point. Harry would probably hurt himself trying not to roll his eyes. Blaise's voice broke Harry's train of thought. "I'm sure daddy dearest doesn't tell you everything Malfoy. How strong are your occlumency shields?"

"Better than yours Zabini!" he snapped back.

Harry wished he had had the foresight to negotiate an inclusion of his own allies in the non-aggression pact he had signed with Zabini if only to spare himself of the endless baiting that the two did to one another. Helena insisted it was a pre-slash slow burn in the making (whatever that meant) but it seemed to be happening more frequently, not less. If the two couldn't stand each other then why did they make a point of interacting? During free period yesterday Zabini had literally scoured the library to find their study table in the back by the Arithmancy section only to start an argument with Draco and then leave. If the two didn't look so upset Harry would swear that they actually liked fighting. "Are those two fighting again?"

Harry hadn't seen Vincent enter the Great Hall but was glad he was there to mediate between the two. No matter what his ranking was, Draco rarely listened to Harry unless it would jeopardize his own standing (a threat Harry didn't like to use). Arguing with Zabini wasn't one of those things as up to recently Harry would have been on Draco's side. Goyle figured that as long as they didn't come to blows, everyone was content to let them bicker. If Professor Snape wasn't so focused on making Harry's year miserable then he might've addressed it weeks ago. "They're always fighting," Nott pointed out, "But it's better than the alternative."

Goyle perked up from where he was piling food on his plate. "What's the alternative?"

Nott actually cringed. "Let's just say I now know why Wood and Flint never come to blows over quidditch."

Vince arched his eyebrows. "Huh. Imagine that."

Nott's face did a weird mix between draining of blood and flushing at the same time. The end result was his face oddly splotched. "Well I don't need to," he growled.

Goyle blushed heavily and Harry looked between the three pretty sure he had lost something somewhere. "What? Imagine what?"

Hands came up to cover his ears, but Harry still heard the muffled voice of Helena as she was very close. "Harold's too pure for these sort of talks Theodore Nott. I'll send word to Aunt Lecilia if you don't behave."

"Oi! I didn't do nothing!" Nott hollered.

Harry tilted his head back and caught sight of his favorite prefect. "Helena I've told you: it's just Harry."

"Whatever you say Henry."

Harry sighed, but let her be. She never listened to him. Still if he didn't try it was the same thing as admitting defeat. He turned back to Nott rather than get dragged into conversation with Helena (she used terms he didn't know and then refused to define them all while maintaining a cheshire cat worthy grin). "You and Draco argue at least twice a week. You really have no leg to stand on."

"Better twice a week than every time we see each other. Zabini's in our dorm room and they still argue there. It's like they can't help but butt heads."

"I ship it," Helena added.

Harry sighed. Another term he didn't understand. By Nott's face, he understood completely what his mad cousin was talking about and wished she had kept it to herself. "That's disgusting."

"Wait until you hear who I think is going to top."

The noise that escaped Nott's throat was some mutation between a howl, scream, and choke. He tripped over himself retreating as fast as his legs could carry him. "It's not blondie!" Helena shouted after his retreating form.

A scream sounded from the general direction Nott had turned in the corridor outside. Harry looked to Vince, but he seemed just as lost as him for once. At least it wasn't some wizard code he was supposed to know. Perhaps it was a girl thing? "What's wrong with Nott?" Draco asked.

Helena's smile was more Mad Hatter than cheshire cat in that moment. "Trust me darling, you don't want to know."

The blond blanched, if from her tone, the words, or the smile Harry didn't know, but it probably didn't matter either way. Women were terrifying.

* * *

**A/N: It has been so long! My computer (which is so old it is a testament to my sister's skills with technology that she has even kept it running this long) has finally been dragged to the pits of the underworld taking with it my writing. As a result I did not achieve my NaNoWriMo goal and have spent the last few months trying to resurrect this story from the ashes that were left. I am sure that some of the plot points have changed because of that but this is the best I can do.**

**As a treat for all of your patience this chapter is especially long. I wanted to get a few chapters in my backlog before I started posting again (to make matters worse it is musical season which means I have started practicing several hours a week leaving even less time for writing AND I just started a new job). Ugh. Anywho, as a result of me starting over on this story there is quite a bit of exposition in Harry's second year leaving to this lengthy chapter. What was supposed to be chapter eleven ended up being split into chapter eleven through fourteen. At first I wanted to give my readers a great big update but had second thoughts the more I ended up writing. Much of Harry's early years wasn't plotted prior to writing and have led to new characters and experiences. For instance, during my first quick run through of this story, I had completely forgot to write in Remus! Sirius shows up, of course, but now thanks to this tangle that has become Harry's life, Tom has a huge say so in how and why. **

**Following this the chapters get smaller for some time so enjoy this behemoth presently.**

**À bientôt j'espère!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Upon the conclusion of dinner, only about half of the students emptied out, the vast majority of those that left being upper years. Not a single Slytherin seventh or sixth year had remained for the farce of a club, Helena having heralded her goodbyes before disappearing with her classmates. Queenie said that she had promised to preserve the memory of Professor Snape showing Lockhart what's whatso it could be broadcasted on the glass walls of the dungeon by lunchtime tomorrow.

Draco thought this was a marvelous idea and promised to submit his own perspective for additional viewing. (Harry would later wish that he had been smart enough at that moment to accept the show second-hand and return to the common room to study.)

Gilderoy Lockhart pranced onto the stage with the usual flamboyant nature and pristine robes he was characteristic of. "Welcome, welcome all, to our first meeting of the Hogwarts Dueling club!" he called across the room, projecting his voice in a manner that, although effective, could have easily been replicated with a sonorous charm. "Can everyone hear me? Can everyone... see me?"

There was a flurry of giggles and squeals from a group of girls huddled on the opposite side of the table, closest to where Lockhart stood now. It was a moving mass that migrated up and down the hall to remain as close as possible to the ridiculous man. "By the gods, can we just get to the part where Professor Snape knocks him on his arse?" Nott grumbled a few feet away.

Harry agreed, but thought it was prudent not to say it aloud. He and the potions master still had a feud going and it wouldn't do for Harry to change the status quo thanks to one overheard comment of support. His presence at the farce of a club meeting could be excused, his verbal encouragement could not.

"I've been charged with teaching you to protect yourselves. Your professor Snape has graciously volunteered to assist me!"

The careful way their head of house stalked onto the raised platform showed great consideration for this theatrical display. Harry could imagine inwardly the man was as eager to start the duel as his students were. "Don't you worry!" Lockhart lorded over the gathered students. "You will still have your potions professor when I'm through with him."

Nott made faces through the theatrics Lockhart presented to the crowd doing the most dramatic and excessive of bows. Vincent was uncharacteristically vocal in his own distaste for the proceedings. "This is a farce," Vince scoffed, his eyes narrowed in irritation. "No self-respecting duelist would behave in such a way. He's not even wearing regulation robes."

"I doubt he owns a pair of regulation robes," Draco pointed out. "You can hardly get manticore fur to maintain such a cut."

Harry was glad he wasn't the only one to notice the quality of robes that Lockhart wore everyday but was unsurprised that it was Draco who had noted it. The group went silent when their head of house cast his first spell. "Expelliarmus."

The professor's form and pronunciation was flawless, if a little exaggerated. The amount of power he put into the spell, however, was a bit much and the disarming charm sent their defense professor hurtling back to fall in a messy heap right before the edge of the platform. Draco was laughing uproariously and he wasn't the only one. "Do you think he's okay?" asked Parkinson on their left.

"Who cares?" Nott grinned.

Harry himself was in a much better mood as well. Seeing Lockhart being flung around for an hour would probably be one of his happiest memories forever. When the fop jumped back up his affable grin was a tad more forced than Harry had ever remember seeing it. "Well done, well done, Professor Snape," he heralded ina boisterous voice, looking around and waving to show he was uninjured, "But if I do say so myself it was quite obvious as to what spell you were going to use. If I wanted to, I could have easily stopped you but simply wanted to give you the opportunity to showcase your own talents. Good show, old boy."

The Professor, for his part, looked absolutely bored to the careless onlooker but to his slytherins it was apparent that the man was in good humor. "It would seem more prudent to first teach them how to block, Gilderoy."

The wind clearly had been taken out of his sails but he twirled away with his stupid grin. "Good, good! How about we have a pair of volunteers to demonstrate just that. Potter! Malfoy! Front and center."

Harry and Draco passed conspiring smirks before they started pushing towards the end of the table where they could walk up like civilized folks. Despite both learning from Lady Narcissa during school breaks neither had ever turned their wand on one another. The experience would be novel, if nothing else, and both were eager to see how they stood against the other. "It would hardly be a showing if we picked two students from my own house, Gilderoy," Professor Snape spoke over the excited babble.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth to keep from scowling at the man. 'Is he serious? Now?! He wants to make a point of showing how much he detests me now?! In front of the entire student body!?'

"Oh?" Lockhart looked a tad wrong-footed by Snape's interruption.

Harry fully expected to be summarily dismissed by his head of house once again. That was not what happened. "Indeed. Let us choose an altering opponent for Mister Potter to duel."

Vince's serious expression told Harry all that he needed to know. He had to win the mock duel. Snape was doing hardly anything to hide his antagonism at this point and Harry was going to lose face amongst the Slytherins if he didn't fend off each and every dig at himself. It didn't matter that they were coming from their head of house. If anything, this made the barbs that more dangerous.

"Of course, Severus. Just what I was thinking. Another volunteer then. Let's see..."

"Weasley- Percival that is," he interrupted yet again.

Harry could feel his teeth aching at the pressure he was clenching them. A sixth year. He was having him duel a sixth year?! "This is becoming ridiculous," Vince muttered under his breath.

Harry had a few more choice observations, but nothing that would be met with any approval by those who would hear them. Even Lockhart, the pretentious peacock, looked hesitant with the pairing. "Now, Severus. Isn't that a bit..."

"I'm sure the great Harry Potter can handle a mere sixth year, can't you Mister Potter?"

Harry matched him stare for stare. Like hell was he going to let that menace win! "It would be an honor to show the skills you have bestowed upon Slytherin house," Harry said with a baring of teeth that looked more like a snarl than a smile. "Sir."

The man's gaze narrowed at the blatant disrespect but he turned and stalked off the dueling table all the same. "You're really pushing him, you know," Draco whispered as Harry moved to pass by them and head to the stairs leading onto the elevated table.

"At this point there's nothing that could possibly make it worse," Vince rebuked the blond. "You and I both know that the professor needs no aid from Harry's churlish mood to lash out. He's having him duel a sixth year for Morgana's sake."

Harry left the two to their debate and tried to determine just how much he was able to reveal. While he had a respectable variation of spells in his arsenal, Harry doubted it would match up to a sixth year's repertoire. Especially one as knowledge hungry as Percival Weasley. "You will cast to disarm, only to disarm."

Lockhart's stupid voice brought relief to Harry's frantic thoughts. A disarming charm was third year wandwork, but was covered in passing this past month in charms. It wasn't advanced and it wasn't obscure which meant it was exactly what Harry needed. Percival nodded once at their defense professor but was obviously discontent to duel a second year even if he was pleased to be called upon to demonstrate. He had the fiery orange-red hair that Harry attributed to the Weasley family (and the Prewetts and the Fawleys but one line was dead and the other didn't have an heir at Hogwarts currently). But besides that he didn't particularly look like any of his siblings. While Ronald, Fred, and George all had moderately straight hair that was kept much too short for a pureblood house, Percival's hair was a riot of curls with the type of order characteristic of sleekeazy (Harry still had to use the potion everyday which meant he took longer than Zabini and afforded him the second private bathroom the mornings after astronomy practicals). By the look on his face he took great offense to being pitted against a second year to demonstrate a disarming charm. Helena had spoken often enough of Percival Weasley as her year's version of Hermione Granger. Always eager to offer a textbook quote or volunteer to demonstrate his superior knowledge in classes. Harry was sure he'd look more agreeable if it was a fifth year on the platform with him.

They bowed, as indicated by Lockhart's excessive commentary, and raised their wands. Percival brought his up in the customary large wave the charm began in but Harry was faster and (more to the point) could cast the third year charm both wandlessly and nonverbally. Before he was halfway through his casting Percival was being thrown back and landed on the end of the platform on his arse. A chorus of laughs and shouts echoed up from the crowd as a whole with the Slytherins noted louder due to their close proximity. Harry didn't allow himself to revel in his success and instead bowed once more to his fallen opponent before turning to face his head of house.

Professor Snape's face was twisted into a scowl. Harry scowled right back at him. He was a right arse to put Harry in this position to begin with and expect him to fail. "Wait!"

Harry turned back around to see Percival all but storming back down the platform. "The demonstration is not over. Professor Lockhart," he raised his voice. "Perhaps a mock duel is in order?"

Harry inwardly groaned. Wounded pride was a horribly motivating factor when it came to gryffindors. They reacted brashly and bulldozed ahead, even the most levelheaded of them. Harry turned to their so-called dueling instructor but knew instantly the man was going to be no help. He was smiling widely. "An excellent idea! Let's get another vol-"

"Nonsense," Professor Snape added his two knuts, "Mister Weasley and Mister Potter," he practically spat Harry's last name (a sentiment he understood all too well), "are more than capable of a crossing of wands."

"Indeed," Percival agreed.

Harry sighed but nodded his head once in acquiescence. This duel was happening whether he wanted it to or not. This time Percival sent a flinging hex to start out and Harry knew this match had become personal. Perhaps Harry had been a bit of a berk using a nonverbal disarming charm to expeditiously conclude the demonstration. Really he only had himself to blame for the three blasting charms that then came to bear down on his hastily raised shield. He dissolved it and instead cast a jelly-legs jinx then a binding charm. The jinx caught and made him fall out of the way of the binding charm but he did end up arse up face planted into the platform yet again. He quickly dispelled the charm and came to a rise once again his eyes narrowed. Percival's face had splotched red all across his cheeks and down his neck.

Now Harry could see the family resemblance to Ronald Weasley.

In a flash of purple light the sixth year's wand whipped forward and brought with it a strand of jet black magic that lashed through the air leaving the scent of burnt hair in its wake. Harry wasn't entirely sure that was necessary for a mock duel, but figured it was probably legal if no one was moving to stop the prefect. (Or at least he was pretty sure, but then again one teacher hated him and the other was an idiot, so who knows.)

Harry's own augamenti seemed infantile in comparison until he sent an ice spell to freeze it and Percival howled in pain. It wasn't anything too dangerous but it was a sharp and bitter pain that wasn't going to be shrugged off. Which is why when Harry sent three stinging hexes- each one more potent than the one before it- the disarming charm that followed brought the wand flying through the air and directly into his hand. Percival actually growled as he lurched towards Harry seemingly without conscious thought. His hands came up and clawed at the air, a motion Harry was intimately familiar with thanks to Uncle Vernon.

He froze up at the sight of the gesture. The memories of the few times his uncle had gotten his wish and had actually wrapped his hands around his neck were among some of the most terrifying in his rather short life. Worse than even killing Professor Quirrel. The neglect, the starving, the belittlement- they were par for the course when living with the Dursleys. They didn't respect monsters nor did they fear them. The family had never dealt with a monster in truth- a monster like Harry's father- so Harry's own lackluster skills left one underwhelmed. He was nothing like monsters of old. He was small, scrawny, with knobbly knees. His hair grew all over the place when not tamed in excess by potions and his eyesight had been absolutely wretched before they had been corrected as well. He was too delicate looking for a monster- not big and imposing like Marcus Flint nor conniving and sharp like Helena. They would have made great monsters. They wouldn't be panicking at mere memories of a Muggle family and standing like a berk as a livid sixth year stomped towards them.

His father would be sorely displeased with him.

That thought, more than any other, had Harry's hands whipping up and magic forming in both hands. "Impedimenta," he hissed as his fingers numbed and his heart beat rapidly. A bright turquoise light exploded from both wand tips and rocketed straight for Percival. It hit him straight in the chest and he practically flew back- significantly worse than any reasonable reaction to the jinx should have been.

Lucky for Percival, Gilderoy Lockhart was in the way to break his fall.

Harry could feel his heartbeat pounding in his head and there was a distant roar in his ears, barely heard over his own breathing. He shook his head once sharply trying to clear it off the darkness that had narrowed his field of view. It was only then that he noticed that the roar in his ears wasn't blood rushing but the cheers and laughter of the students spread around the platform. Nott was guffawing in a most unbecoming fashion and Draco's smirk had widened to a verifiable grin. Harry's gaze moved to Vince. The older boy looked pleased with a smile of his own gracing his lips but it was dampened by another emotion that clouded his features. He gave an encouraging nod and Harry relaxed further, turning back to his opponent. At the very least Harry had won this round with Snape's ever increasing crusade. His position was secure for some time yet which meant he still had some use for his father.

Percival and Lockhart were only just beginning to untangle themselves from one another. Lockhart's robes, although of excellent quality and stitched with enough protective runes to avoid any minor hexes and ws cut exquisitely, was in the northern asian style which favored long and loose layers. Percival was just gangly with long limbs and had a growth spurt over the winter. He was yet used to his new height and it made for some awkward maneuvering now that he was entangled with their professor's robes. The laughter and chatter continued on as they separated, only quieting when Snape deigned to speak. "It seems that Mister Potter's casting skills are adequate, although unoriginal."

Harry ignored the man's stupidity. Nonverbal spell casting was OWL level coursework not to mention that the impediment jinx wasn't covered until sixth year in either defense or charms. His skills were far above adequacy for a second year and duelists were notorious for flashy spells that made for a better showing, not a basic aguamenti that any first year learned in Herbology. "Yes, well... Well done Mister Potter," Lockhart coughed after finally standing on his own two feet, a careful hand coifing his hair. "Good practice duel all around. Shake hand you two."

Percival looked like he'd rather lick bubotuber puss than shake Harry's hand when he held it out for the sixth year to take. He was still read high in his cheeks and his curly hair was in a state of disarray similar to how Harry's own hair would grow without the aid of the potions he religiously put in it. "Come now," their defense professor said when Percival did not immediately take the outstretched hand. "Let's not be poor sports."

Percival's frown was bordering dangerously into scowl territory, but Harry held his ground. After a few seconds the red head clasped his hand and offered a firm handshake. Harry's smile widened just a bit. Percival wasn't a bad sort at all. If the sixth year wasn't sure to hold a grudge Harry would inquire as to the identity of some of those spells he had used. He made a note in his mind palace to ask Helena after the girl saw the memory of the duel and see if he could get tutoring on how to cast them.

As soon as they had clasped hands for the bare minimum time allowed to not be considered insulting Percival released his hand and took a step back. He bowed once- sharply- and turned around, stalking off the platform. "Well done again," Gilderoy called once again focusing all attention on him. "Now we shall get into the group practice. Everyone form up in lines across the hall and let us try this disarming charm."

Harry quickly ducked off of the platform- ignoring Professor Snape's piercing gaze as it followed him back to the gaggle of slytherins awaiting his return. "That was brilliant!" Tracy Davis said as she batted her eyelashes at him.

Harry took a hurried step away from the girl- she hadn't spoken to him directly before and her weird behavior indicated some sort of attraction that he wanted no part in, thank you very much. He bumped into Vince who arched an eyebrow at his distress. "Nice wandwork," his ally said pointedly with a wry grin.

"Did you see the way he flung Weasley?" Draco bounced into the conversation with his normal energy. "It was like Yule all over again. Do you think it's too early for birthday gifts?"

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. Draco was actually pretty fun to hang out with when he wasn't heralding his father's (suspect) greatness. He and Vince were the closest things to friends he was going to get in his life and if the blond wasn't so loose with his tongue while angered Harry would probably trust him more. As it was that serpent tongue of his didn't always pick and choose who he attacked with his acerbic wit and Harry had to occasionally resist the urge to hex the older boy. "Now if only it was the younger Weasley," Nott grumbled as he too came towards their group.

Harry wasn't foreign to being flocked to by his yearmates. As the hierarchy stood, he was well above all of them in political standing and was the de facto leader of their year (and third year probably, after the memory of his duel with Percival Weasley was broadcasted in the dungeons). But that didn't mean he enjoyed having so many people who often spoke against him suddenly smiling graciously. "I think I've had enough of Lockhart's peacocking," Harry called over the beginning of Nott and Draco's constant squabbling. "There's still that transfiguration paper from today to do and I want to borrow some of Queenie's notes from arithmancy."

Vincent nodded and gestured Goyle over to them. "We'll come too. Prefect Dodderidge probably didn't go too far."

And in fact, she hadn't. Helena claimed to have expected quite a bit of their house would leave shortly into the dueling farce and had been standing by to take this first group so that they wouldn't get 'lost' on their way back to the dungeons and end up petrified. The brunette said all of this with her normal sharp smirk and goading comments but her hazel eyes didn't appear nearly as energetic. Perhaps she took her prefect duties a tad more seriously than she allowed others to believe. Her eyes didn't once stop roaming the corridor the entire trek to their common room.

Not for the first time Harry wondered about Helena's motives. The sixth year had the nickname 'Devil Dodderidge' amongst the Slytherins and those 'in-the-know' and it was doubtful the name had been unearned. Yet from Harry's first day at Hogwarts she had been nothing but friendly and helpful- going as far as to make a talisman to help protect Harry's mind before he had learned occlumency. Helena was also the reason Queenie had made such an overt show of favor, he had later learned. Still the woman said nothing of the several debts Harry probably owed her and while it was in Harry's best interest to never mention them in turn he felt he owed it to Helena to allow her to claim them. It was her right, after all and there was no doubt in Harry's mind he would not be where he was politically if not for her earlier interference.

But Harry had not even pursued an acquaintance with her cousin, Theodore Nott, outside of basic classmate interactions. And still she had begun tutoring him in advanced spell casting. And then there was that odd display of emotion she had when warning him against Dumbledore at the start of this term. She had looked only a few seconds from a panic attack at the thought of Dumbledore looking into his mind. (Harry was still curious as to what secret the brunette thought she knew but had nothing to barter with presently.)

"Here we are: home sweet home," Helena announced at the patch of corridor that would garner them entrance to the common room. "You lot get inside and I will return to the Great Hall to get the rest of you. The professor wants to speak with third years when curfew is called so don't run off and go to sleep. He'll be cross if you're not in attendance."

Harry resolved to leave it be. Perhaps he would ask next year if she hadn't already told him at that point. (He wondered how likely it was that she might never reveal to him why she acted so oddly when it came to him.) "What do you think the Professor wants?" Nott asked as he plopped down. "Think it's a formal announcement of the new school procedures."

Harry waved his hand to the bulletin by the entrance. "They've already been posted and Snape detests repeating himself."

"So it is," Nott sniffed.

"It's second term," Zabini said from the chaise he lounged in opposite of Draco. "We're preparing for our third year course load and choose our electives."

Harry perked up almost immediately. "Electives?"

A few upper forms nearby groaned at hearing Harry Potter- of all people- was about to take electives. "Not like he dinnae already hog all of the good thomes," Melissa Buchanan, a fourth year, bemoaned from her small study group at a table nearby.

They didn't have to wait much longer. Within half a hour the last of the Slytherins had been escorted back to the dungeons and not even five minutes later Snape stood before them with his normal severe expression. "As I'm sure all of you know, you will be expected to begin consideration to your supplemental studies next year."

Harry blinked. He had actually forgotten. With all the extra studying he was doing he probably had a working knowledge in most studies taught up to the fourth year level at least. Now that he had to actually take a class in the subjects he had been researching (mostly to annoy higher forms of his house that had tried to bully him his first year) it was sure to be an interesting experience. Professor Snape's glower quieted down the idle chatter quickly. "You are required to pick a minimum of two courses but I expect all of you to pick three. Furthermore you will not be allowed to drop any of your core classes so I suggest you spend your free periods appropriately. That is all."

Their head of house made a beeline to the corridor that supposedly connected his private quarters with the common room. "That's not very useful," Nott grumbled. "And what's all this with us having to pick three courses. Why?"

"Any family of worth should have an heir achieve ten OWLS. While it hardly matters to anyone of proper lineage, it does reflect well on how one can manage an estate if they can manage three years of ten classes while going through the worst of our puberty years. It's akin to a trial effort," Tracy Davis said where she stood next to Pansy Parkinson.

Harry thought it a bit more nuanced than all that but figured she had the jist of it. What mandating his students to pick three electives really did was prevent someone from filling their slots with 'easy' courses and regretting it upon graduation. Most ministry positions only require five NEWTS- and generally in one of the seven core subjects. But when it came down to two people of similar status politically (as only a few families were of such a level where they would instantly be offered a position) applicants were compared on merit. Harry personally felt that all jobs should be garnered by merit alone but recognized the futility in expecting common practices to change overnight. He made a mental note to discuss this with his father as well before retiring for the night.

The very next day saw that Harry had more to worry about than equal opportunity employment when he was ambushed in one of the rare moments he had alone. He had been on his way to the greenhouses for some supplemental time with Professor Sprout when a boy in hufflepuff robes waylaid him. "I saw your duel with Percy Weasley," the boy said.

Then again, he was a sight closer to a man than a boy. He wasn't yet an adult in the same way of Michael McGregor, Harry's quidditch team's beater and a seventh year. McGregor was built like a bodybuilder or something and could probably bench press a motorbike with all of his bulk. The Hufflepuff before him didn't look anywhere near as intimidating but no less impressive. He was tall and broad shouldered, something that no amount of robes could hide. His jawline was pronounced and his cheekbones looked like you could cut yourself on them. His striking beauty was only added to with the crooked smile that showed perfectly white teeth. Not a tea stain in sight. 'Pureblood,' Harry thought in consternation. Only they bothered with the upkeep of cosmetic charms. 'Or he's just this ridiculously good looking.'

"I'm Cedric Diggory," he said with another flash of that charming smile of his as he held out a hand.

'Both, then?' Harry thought before he decided to clasp arms with the other.

Diggory looked momentarily surprised- it was a rather dated way of greeting to clasp one's forearm- but returned the gesture reflexively as Harry would expect. Diggory house was designated Light but were traditionalists through and through. They were among one of the few Light families Lady Malfoy and Queenie agreed were acceptable to form alliances with publicly (Longbottom being the other). "Harry," introduced himself in turn.

If Diggory thought it was odd that Harry did not claim the Potter name he said nothing about it. Harry liked him already. "You were rather impressive in your duel with Percy. I'm part of his Charms study group and am well versed with his capabilities in a duel. Where have you studied?"

Harry returned the question with a blank expression. Cedric Diggory wasn't the first person to accuse him of having a private tutor that had taught him intermediate dueling and he wouldn't be the last. Truthfully the only person Harry had ever done anything close to dueling with was Vince and only a handful of times during last summer. But then again Helena was also adamant that Harry always knew more advanced spells and there were probably a few fifth year spells utilized in the duel that everyone was still nattering on about. The impediment jinx wasn't exactly common curriculum, after all. "I've picked up a few things from my studies. And the dungeons are riddled with empty classrooms to practice in."

"Pull the other one Harry. There's no way you've self studied to the point where you can beat a sixth year in a duel."

Harry shrugged. "There were other factors. For one, Weasley underestimated me for a good portion of our duel. He didn't believe a second year could be a worthy opponent and because of that he was negligent in his attacks. There was also that it was supposed to be a friendly introduction of kid-friendly dueling practices. He expected maybe the disarming charm, a stunning hex but nothing more severe than that. I, on the other hand, began the duel with the full expectation that I would have to start out with everything I had in order to win the duel- and I had to win."

Of course there was more to it than that. Even not having formally dueled in the eyes of some, impressing his peers with his abilities would make them more likely to declare a formal alliance with him later on, even if they weren't in his year. (So Harry supposes thanks were due to Professor Snape for arranging the conditions of the duel that had brought him to Diggory's attention... but then again, he was being an arse so maybe not.)

"You're just naturally talented?" Diggory questioned with a skeptical expression.

"If you consider natural talent to be scouting upper forms' required texts, spending hours studying said texts and additional thomes to supplement any missing information, days of practicing in empty classrooms during my free time scrounged up outside of my normal study periods, then yes. I am naturally talented."

Diggory's skeptical expression morphed into a bewildered one the more Harry spoke. Slytherins were notoriously known for keeping to themselves to the point where almost all of their studying was done sequestered in the dungeons or the safety of their own common room. Their house was considered the breeding grounds for the untrustworthy and the corrupt. Very few slytherins were included in the inter-house study sessions outside of their NEWT years. It was probably the only secret kept within the halls of Hogwarts that wasn't public knowledge- Slytherins could achieve such good marks because they followed a brutal training regimen outside of classes. So while Harry's own studying habits weren't exactly one of a kind, it was probably the first Diggory's ever been faced with. Which made it that much more impressive to the fifth year hufflepuff.

It wasn't so much as Harry revealing house secrets as Harry revealing his own study habits. Not too many slytherins studied the way he did because most focused on one subject or another outside of their actual classwork. Harry was much too curious to limit himself in such a way. It was a gray area to be sure, but one he was going to utilize as much as possible. "You mean to tell me you were able to defeat one of the top sixth years by simply cramming a bunch of upper year textbooks and practicing by yourself?"

Harry smirked. "I'm not saying that, you are. And I'm not not saying that either."

The golden haired hufflepuff blinked a few times before he narrowed his gaze. "Show me," he commanded, the beginnings of a grin on his lips.

If the older boy's smile wasn't so eager Harry would have reprimanded him for the presumptious command. As it was, he was a hufflepuff. Harry grabbed his bag and pulled it off. Helena had added an expansion charm on it in trade for access to his notes for Herbology and History of Magic during her OWLS and Harry hadn't been more pleased with a trade his entire life. He reached his arm in up to his shoulder- much further than was physically possible considering the bag was only about as big as his head- and pulled out his spell compendium. It was a work in progress that Harry had spent much of his free time during break organizing but would look a sight more impressive than the four separate bounded notes he had kept prior to its creation. He passed it to the wide-eyed fifth year with a smile. "These are my notes."

It only took a few seconds for Cedric to return his gaze back to Harry. "These are your notes? Harry, this could be published!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know too many that would want an encyclopedia of spells and I don't even have all the spells I know listed. Those are just the ones covered by Hogwarts curriculum, or at least as much of it as I can manage. There are massive holes for NEWT level spells that I don't know yet and I'm sure there are some missing spells in fourth and fifth year too. There's only so much I can gather by myself, you know."

Cedric shook his head. "This is amazing. You're just a second year."

"So is Hermione Granger and I'll wager she's read twice as much as I have."

Cedric blinked in surprise. Harry, for his part, wasn't apologetic in the least. While he and Granger had butted heads last year they had been amicable this one. She was brilliant, there was no way about it and now that Ronald Weasley didn't seem obsessed with making fun of her, she might have even developed friends in her own house. Harry had been waffling around with extending a hand of alliance to the girl for some time and imagined he would before they graduated.

"I've heard about her," Cedric allowed. "She's a gryffindor, right? A bit of a walking encyclopedia..."

Harry smile sharpened a bit around the edges. "What a very diplomatic way of calling her a know-it-all."

Cedric coughed and handed his notes back. "Yes well... there's a difference between reading the library and understanding the magic of how it works. The charms on your so-called notebook alone is more impressive than anything I've seen in Flourish and Blotts."

"I can show you how the charms work if you want," Harry offered feeling this had gone over very well indeed. He had given an Heir Apparent of a Noble house the notion that he was someone to watch and it would pay dividends in the future.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd want a dueling partner."

It was Harry's turn to stare in awe at the older boy. "What?"

Cedric's smile returned as if it was his default expression. "I want to pursue professional dueling when I graduate and think we could learn a lot from dueling one another."

That was interesting to know- Harry doubted even Zabini knew all of the upper classmen's post-hogwarts career goals- but still brought into question the boy's sanity. "But I'm a second year."

"A second year that just bested a sixth year in a mock duel."

"But-"

"Harry. Do you want to duel or not?"

Harry looked at the fifth year like he'd grown a third head. "Of course I want to duel!"

As it turned out, Cedric's idea of dueling was like the mock duel with Percival ("Call him Percy, Harry. I don't know any of the Weasley's that go by their names besides Charlie and the twins") only twice as fast, and with a non-verbal spell every other cast. He never did anything too advanced, limiting himself to nothing higher than third year spells, but that meant very little when on their third sparring session he used a nonverbal tripping jinx to win their last round. "You're merciless," Harry gasped on the ground, his entire body tingly from the latent magic in the air.

"And you're thinking too hard," Cedric warned with a good natured laugh. "I can see you go through your lists in your head and its slowing you down."

"I have to think," Harry whined. "I can't just use a disarming charm for everything, that's stupid."

"And effective."

"Yet predictable."

"So dodge."

Harry scowled up at the golden-haired boy. Cedric just beamed down at the second-year and held out a hand. "Come on. We'll come up with a seven spell list for you to use for next time. It'll have to be in two weeks because next week is Hogsmeade weekend and I have a date."

"The village? What's it like?"

Only third years and above were allowed to go to the wizarding village that the train pulled into from London. It was supposedly one of the few all-wizarding villages on the island and was a decent substitute of Diagon Alley during the school year. "Brilliant," Cedric said waving his hand in Harry's face. "I'll take you to Madame Rosmerta's pub next year when you go. Buy you your first butterbeer."

Harry grinned and allowed himself to be pulled up. "That sounds splendid."

"Now you best do something about that hair before Helena sees you. Word is she's practically adopted you as a little brother and I know she'll tease you relentlessly if she saw that nest on top of your head."

What Cedric said was true. They had found out early on that the residual magic in the air that came from their practicing so many spells in an enclosed space acted like static to Harry's already unruly hair and completely reversed the potions he used to style it. The hufflepuff had laughed uproariously the first time he saw the wind-swept appearance of his hair in its natural state. "Yeah, yeah. What are these seven spells?"

Harry found himself sorely missing the fifth year because talk of electives was all any of the third years wanted to discuss during the two weeks they weren't meeting, completely ignoring the fact that there had been a string of unsolved petrifications that year. Harry supposed it was very much like children to ignore something important when it had little to do with them. (It probably didn't hurt that Zacharias Smith, the petrification from their year, wasn't missed at all.)

"Which classes were you thinking of Harry?" Draco asked with an eager grin on their way back to the dungeon for their free period.

"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are a must. Care of Magical Creatures will probably be useful for Alchemy. I've heard nothing but bad things about our Divination professor but one never knows."

"You should take Care of Magical Creatures," Draco insisted. "That way we will have all of our electives together."

Harry inwardly groaned. Draco was a horrible study partner for him. He tended to go over their homework and textbooks fastidiously hoping to understand as much of the theory as possible then created his own test questions to quiz those surrounding him. Harry (and Vincent) much preferred simply reading over their own notes. If it was incorrect on a homework assignment he had already made the correction in his notes making the latter completely moot. And he took notes straight from the textbook anyway! Queenie had known this handy spell that would combine loose parchment into a bound book and he had carried his notes around since for each module. Draco, however, absolutely loved studying with others. (Something about productivity being contagious or some such rot.)

"Vince and I are going to take Divination," Greg offered.

Harry hummed aloud. It would be nice to have another class with Vincent and perhaps Harry could pursue an alliance with Goyle. He was Vince's ally and some sort of vassal to the Malfoy house (probably due to his father's debt to Lucius Malfoy). The boy was always around so it only stood to reason that Harry should be on good terms with him as well.

(It was probably worth noting that Harry was becoming so busy in his everyday life he hardly noticed Professor Snape's attempts at demeaning him now... 'I wonder what that means?')

"Divination could be interesting," Harry allowed. "I was also considering Muggle Studies, actually."

Draco scoffed. "You want to take Muggle Studies? Why? Muggles are nothing important."

There were many things that Draco said that Harry let slide. This was not to be one of them. Harry whipped around with fury in his eyes and a snarl on his lips. "Despite how some might view our magicless neighbors they are neither weak nor inconsequential. If any of our magical kind bothered to learn the history of the planet beyond their own meager contributions perhaps we wouldn't be hiding in plain sight from Muggles everywhere like a cowed dog!"

This problem right here was the first thing he would discuss with his father. By the earliest reports the Dark Lord understood well the potential dangers of underestimating Muggles. Somehow the latter generations had morphed his father's machinations to those of Gellert Grindelwald who had foolishly wished to reign supreme above Muggles rather than separate their worlds entirely. Witches and wizards used it as an excuse to attack anyone of non-pure blood status and treat Muggles like nothing more than cattle. But the Muggles were growing by leaps and bounds- Muggleborns right with them- and it would really take one slip up to have the entire planet out for magical blood.

History had shown that they have no problem tearing the planet apart to root out an entrenched enemy.

Why everyone forgot the burnings of old that led to the Statute of Secrecy in the first place was beyond Harry. Witches and wizards lived too long to casually forget their own past.

"'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.'"

Harry glanced up to see Blaise had once again put himself in the middle of someone else's business. This time, the Italian was a sight for sore eyes. Draco, who had gone pink in the cheeks at Harry's rebuke turned to him as well with a scowl. "What are you on about?"

"He's trying to teach you," Harry summarized, having grown tired of Draco's obstinacy for now.

He turned to continue to the common room, Vince and Greg on his heels. "And what exactly is he trying to teach me?" Draco all but whined.

"Know thy enemy," Harry called back, not bothering to stop. "Know thyself."

Honestly, it was like the blond wanted to be stuck in his ways. Harry found it hard to believe that Lady Narcissa had seriously raised him to be this way (it was probably Lucius' fault). It wasn't going to be doing his ally any favors if Harry simply ignored his more repugnant characteristics. Draco was going to get in over his head in the future if no one did something about his behavior now. He seemed like the type that would have to go through a near-death experience before changing and Harry didn't wish that on anyone (well... maybe Lockhart...). "Are you seriously considering a full schedule?" Vince asked in an attempt to waylay Harry's inner musings.

"Moonstone," Harry said to the corridor wall and watched as the bricks began pulling back in the same way they did at the street entrance to Diagon Alley.

'I wonder if it's the same charm and if so, which came first? How old was Diagon Alley anyway?'

"Harry?"

He glanced up and shook his head. 'Wandering thoughts,' he sighed. "I don't see why not. I spend most of my time studying one subject or another. Now I'll be getting credit for it."

"Yes, but how will you manage to do that and study with Prefect Dodderidge and Heir Greengrass?" Vince pointed out.

It was much more than even that. He was also dueling with Cedric, looking for his father, researching the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, avoiding Dumbledore's ever inspecting gaze, and combating the attacks of other Slytherins that took Snape's general animosity of his person as an excuse to usurp his authority. He was also continuing his correspondence with Lady Narcissa and afternoon tea with Hagrid. Harry's schedule was jam-packed already and was going to be stretched to its limits with the required three courses, not to mention any additional work. But he knows there must be some way to do it. They wouldn't give students free reign to choose whichever classes they wished if it was impossible to complete a heavier workload. He would ask his head of house if the man wasn't being a prat or his headmaster if he didn't trust the man as far as he could see him (without his glasses). "I will make do," Harry said as he claimed the table nearest the fire. "Now have you finished this History of Magic paper? I think I've gotten goblin wars three and four mixed up again."

"They happened so close they might as well be the same one," Vincent grumbled but pulled out his homework.

"Actually the third goblin rebellion was joint initiative led by Urg the Unclean and Vargot on the goblin side and was the most successful one to date. The goblins had even formed an alliance with the werewolves," Goyle interjected with a gusto unsuited to the topic of discussion. "We went through three ministers in just as many months trying to get control of the situation."

Harry smiled at the taller boy. Goyle had shown early on to enjoy History of Magic and Astronomy, much to the amusement of the rest of their little group. Only Draco had an intrinsic knowledge about Astronomy and neither Vince nor Harry much enjoyed either subject, merely memorizing the information until it became of use for another class. Astronomy would be useful during NEWT level Potions, Herbology, and Alchemy, but until then Harry didn't put much effort into the class beyond what was needed to maintain a minimum Exceeds Expectations on all homework assignments. "Since you're so knowledgeable then you can help me figure out what was so special about the second one then."

Goyle grinned and pulled several books out of his bag in quick order. Vincent groaned.

* * *

**A/N: This is a little over half the length of chapter ten but as I said earlier the actual chapter ten was cut into several chapters as I went along. An introduction of Cedric Diggory is here which made me smile greatly. I always thought he would have been a fun character to see more of in the series before his demise and now I get my wish (albeit in my own mind).**

**Feel free to message me on here if you have questions or concerns. I am more than happy to discuss my writing with anyone.**

**Bonne Lecture**


	12. Chapter 12

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

When Harry reached the Great Hall that morning with Vince and Goyle he was immediately inundated by all of the pink. There was salmon, rose, and fuschia banners in between the windows that lined the walls and a large magenta tablecloth on each table- including their own. "Ooh Draco is going to be livid," Goyle said with complete seriousness.

Harry couldn't help but agree. The reason behind the toxic color scheme was obvious if one looked to the head table where all the professors sat. Professor Snape and Sinistra looked ready to mutiny while Professor McGonogall, Professor Vector, and Madame Pomphrey appeared to contemplate suicide (or murder, it wasn't very clear). Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was ecstatically casting charmed hearts and flowers into the air. His robes, were coral of all horrid shades but were somehow cut nicely enough to not look horrendous. It was truly astounding that he could wear that color and pull it off if it weren't for the fact that the man was insistent on plaguing the rest of the school with his stupid schemes. "What's this all about anyway?" asked Vincent, frowning at the little heart shaped confetti that was dusted across the table with silver and pink glitter.

Harry shrugged. "St. Valentine's Day."

Vince, along with almost every other slytherin within hearing distance stared at him in complete confusion. Harry blinked and then came to a sudden and astonishing conclusion. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" It seemed absurd that the wizarding world wouldn't practice it but then again Slytherin House was a haven of traditionalist purebloods; it stood to reason that if they didn't practice muggle holidays, they might not even know about a few of them.

"No Potter," Millicent Bullstrode- an especially acerbic girl in his year- snapped, "We're all just enraptured by your pretty face."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. He absolutely detested that so many of them called him pretty, even when it was in jest or sarcastically as it currently was. The problem was that it kept happening. No self-respecting monster was 'pretty'. No one ever accused the Dark Lord of being 'pretty' (although there are very few descriptions of his father's physical appearance and they all conflict in one way or another). He would ask Vince for assistance to look more rugged and manly if not for the amount of ribbing such a request was sure to be met with. Harry wasn't quite desperate enough to attempt such an action. "It's a holiday focused on courting and love," he explained as soon as he cleared his head of his wandering thoughts. "People give gifts or chocolates to the people they fancy, although I admit it tends to be girls that receive these gifts."

Nott scoffed at his place three people down from Harry. "It sounds stupid."

"You only say that because no one would ever court you," Draco snarked, a wicked smirk on his face as he finally arrived to the table.

Things only declined after that. Despite having come to some sort of cease fire at the start of term this past year, Nott and Draco mixed just as well now as ever (which is to say one would have more luck mixing magic and technology). "I see those two are getting on splendidly," Vince muttered sardonically as the two blonds snipped at at one another.

"No more than usual," Goyle allowed. "Do you think we'll get any letters?"

Harry frowned. "Letters?"

"Yeah. Apparently the esteemed Professor Lockhart thought he could go through student's belongings and find any love letters written to another and send them today. You should have seen Agatha Ollerton's face when he said that. I thought she'd start puking slugs for how green she was."

"What?!"

They turned to see Parkinson have out of her seat. Vince snickered. It wasn't exactly a mystery that she fancied Draco just as it was common knowledge that Queenie had vowed to 'protect her sister's honor if anyone were to dare make passes at her future brother-in-law'. It was just bad luck that whatever poor attempt at wooing the boy had been written for Lockhart's 'cupids to find. "What's wrong Parkinson," asked Queenie from several seats down, "Any admissions of guilt you wish to attest to?"

Harry winced. That was her 'you should have known better' voice. It was too often followed by this wretched pinching charm that left bruises in hard to reach places. (Harry thinks it was a favorite alternative to actual curses and hexes when training children in darker households.) Pansy squeaked and took off at a dead spring out of the Great Hall. "That's not going to help," Vince shook his head in dismay. "Heir Greengrass will be more cross with her for making her chase her through the halls."

"She'll probably send Helena after her," Harry guessed.

"More's the pity."

Harry arched an eyebrow at his ally. "Don't tell me you actually feel bad for Parkinson? She's annoying on a good day."

"And she has more good than bad ones. Parkinson is hardly the worst female in our year. I think Bullstrode would crush you like a grape if it weren't for your standing in the hierarchy. That display at the dueling club farce probably helped your cause." Vince shrugged when Harry scowled at him. "I was just saying."

"What's all this about letters?" Draco asked as he reached for the marmalade. "And why on earth is our table cloth pink? And the streamers red? Are these heart confetti?"

"It's some Muggle holiday Lockhart's putting on," Nott explained. "Something to do with who you fancy and chocolate and flowers. I think some of the girls are excited."

"Speak for yourself," Helena chided as she came down to bother them per usual. "I've already gotten three bouquets and have set each on fire."

Draco blanched. "Whatever for?"

"She's has horrible pollen allergies," Nott said.

"And I don't like sweets in case any of you lot are getting some ideas!" she announced loud enough for at least a quarter of the great hall to hear.

Harry didn't think it was happenstance that a ravenclaw boy that had been heading their way made a complete 180 in the other direction. He was curiously hiding something behind his back... "It's not just for girls, you know."

"Girls and delicate flowers such as yourself Harold. Until the rest of these reprobrates get love letters, we'll just have to beat them off with sticks, I reckon."

Harry scowled at the taller girl. "I am about as much a delicate flower as you."

"My point exactly."

Harry didn't get her point and was probably better off for it. Draco, unbothered by Helena's oddness (probably because he saw a lot of her thanks to Queenie and Astoria) changed topics. "Does this mean Lockhart will have the classroom decked out in this shite?" he asked uncharacteristically crass.

"Most definitely," Goyle intoned with a somber expression.

Draco's face contorted into a rather nostalgic sneer that he only used on special occasions (or when he wanted to be a prat again). Harry thought the expression rather comical now that he knew Lucius Malfoy made the exact face when he was made to eat cooked spinach. He did it when Lady Narcissa wasn't looking but Harry was pretty sure she knew anyway which is why she made a point to have it served once a month during a meal.

"Now I don't want to go to class," the blond groaned, poking at his porridge.

"As opposed to any other day where you're chomping at the bit to go to Defense?" Vince pointed out.

"I can ignore most of his stupidity on normal days. His robes are so garishly colored I'll be blinded within the first ten minutes and be stuck with a heightened sense of sound and might actually remember some of his stupid tales. Salazar, someone save me! Nott, we're switching seats today. There is no way I am sitting in the front of that sodding classroom."

"Oi! Who said I wanted to be in the front? You're the best student in our class, you sit in the front."

"What about Granger?" Harry asked, curious to hear the answer.

"What about Harry?" Vince added.

Harry scowled at his ally and the breakfast continued in the same manner until they left for Transfiguration. Much to Professor McGonogall's consternation, no less than three 'cupids' interrupted their class that day to recite love letters. (Draco received one from Parkinson. As expected, it was like watching a trainwreck.) None were delivered to potions but Michael Corner told them one had barged in causing a Hufflepuff to explode an entire row of cauldrons and Snape had warded the door against any entrances or exits once class started to prevent any more interruptions. (Consequently there were two letters delivered in the hall when the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class was switching with the Slytherin and Gryffindor one.)

It was kind of a let down that Lockhart's class was oddly absent from such interruptions (if one excluded the five letters he had already gotten during lunch just before this). Harry was wondering who was taking bets on how many the professors would inevitably receive- and how he could put some money down that Professor McGonogall and Professor Snape would receive two apiece- when his thoughts were interrupted. "Have you noticed that no one seems to care about the petrified students anymore?"

Harry blinked in surprise and glanced up from the arithmetic sequence he was playing with behind the cover of Lockhart's textbook. Hermione hadn't talked to him since they returned to school and he was almost sure she was going to continue her cold shoulder when they had been continued to be paired together for Defense Against the Dark Arts (not that they learned anything of much use in the class). Apparently that was not to be the case. "None of the upperclassmen have been petrified so they hardly care one way or the other. Smith was an arse even on his best day and has hardly been missed, even by his own housemates, Creevey hadn't made many friends before he was petrified, and you won't see any of the students crying over the loss of Miss Norris." Harry shrugged. "It's understandable that no one seems to care anymore. There have been no more petrifications and it's shock appeal has worn off. Now if a professor was petrified, say Lockhart, that would be something."

Harry didn't think his father was actually eavesdropping on his conversations, but just in case, it would be nice to get rid of the useless professor. "That's Professor Lockhart and how could you say such a thing? Especially with everyone assuming you to be responsible?"

Harry shrugged. "It was just hypothetical. And I wouldn't be a very good murderer if I got caught so easily."

The scowl the brunette sent at him was almost theatrical. Harry smiled back at her in turn. Hermione huffed. "You're rather confusing Harry Potter."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry decided.

She huffed, but there was a small upturn of her lips. 'Victory!' Harry thought to himself.

It appeared that Hermione Granger was getting used to Harry's idiosyncratic behaviors and less quick to temper because of it. If that was the case, perhaps he would pursue an acquaintance with her next year? When class was released Harry was in a rather good mood. And with being able to duel with Cedric again, his mood could only get better (the seeker was rather fetching when he was in proper dueling stance). "Harry Potter!" interrupted his thoughts and the sight that greeted him was nothing like a fit fifth year.

Harry froze in horror at the 'cupid' that was hustling towards him from the other end of the corridor. "No," he said, "Absolutely not."

"I think you've got a love letter, Harry dearest," Draco grinned from ear to ear. The git had been a bit sore about Harry's ribbing for Parkinson's subpar poem and Harry just knew this was the universe's way of getting back at him. So he did what any sensible person should do- he turned tail and strode purposefully (not run, per se, but definitely a brisk walk) in the opposite direction of the dwarf. "Wait, Harry Potter! I have to deliver your letter!"

"Harry's not here right now, please leave a message after the beep," he called over his shoulder, picking up his pace a bit.

It was at this precise moment that he felt the familiar tingle of a sodding tripping jinx and he pitched forward into the nearby suit of armor. "Watch it!' the thing shouted.

"Sorry," Harry grumbled, mildly surprised that it talked and seriously sore that someone had the audacity to fucking jinx him.

He turned to reign down retribution on whatever unfortunate sod had their wand out when he was met by the grim-bearded face not even a foot away from him. They stared at one another for a short moment. Just when Harry was about to bolt, he spoke. "If you run, I'll tackle you."

Harry closed his eyes in silent mortificatiion. There'd be nothing more embarrassing, honestly. Accepting the oncoming shame, he cast a straightening charm on his robes and rose purposefully. "Alright, let's get this over with then."

The dwarf pulled a parchment from out of its diaper (Harry winced) and cleared its throat purposefully.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord!"

The thing had the audacity to sing that monstrosity of a poem! Harry's mask wasn't made of stone and he was sure his dismay for the entire situation was more than palpable to the group of students that had gathered to witness this crime against humanity. 'I wonder if it says something about me that I found this same situation funny when it happened to someone else...?'

Harry didn't care much for that particular exercise of introspection but would gladly negotiate with Helena or Queenie to teach him some basic warding so that next time he'd at least keep others from hearing things he rather keep to himself. To make matters worse, before the dwarf tottered off it threw three handfuls of confetti at Harry. ('Where was he storing the confetti?' Harry thought with rising hysteria as he was inundated with laughter from his so-called allies and housemates. ) "You're right, Harry," Draco grinned as the rest of their group finally joined him. "These messengers are hilarious."

"I'm going to curse Lockhart if it is the last thing I do," Harry swore as he dusted confetti hearts off his robes.

Draco, Blaise, and Goyle were still stuck at different levels of amusement at the horror show that had just transpired in the hallways. Vincent had been kind enough to at least not laugh after Harry had been threatened by a dwarf and been forced to listen to the absolute worst piece of poetry he had ever heard. (He had still grinned widely, but it was a sight more composed than anyone else.)

"Don't be too put out," Greg said as a peace offering. "No one's given the rest of us a poem. Only Draco's gotten one so far."

"When compared to the literary genius that came up with 'his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad', I'm almost pleased with 'He shines like polished silver'," Draco chuckled.

Harry wished they all would shut up. "The next person to quote that horror show will be hexed." With that decree he departed his group of classmates.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't bother to turn around to answer Vince. "Away from you lot! I will see you at dinner." And with that Harry took his leave. It was time for him to meet up with Cedric anyway. When Harry arrived to the classroom they had dueling practice in (thinking of all the curses and hexes he knew of that could be reasonably cast in a Defense lesson and permanently disfigure Lockhart), there was another bloke leaning against the sole desk in the room, laughing animatedly. He was tall too but where Cedric was sunlight this bloke was simmering embers. His hair was a dark auburn with streaks of flame running through and catching one's eyes (at least until one saw that his eyes were a golden honey like living amber). His skin was the same warm sand shade of Cedrics. A quidditch player. "Harry," Cedric greeted upon catching sight of him.

Like a complete and utter berk Harry had stopped in his tracks in the doorway to gape at the newcomer. Because Harry apparently had the tact of a rampaging erumphent.

"This is my friend, Alec MacFusty. Alec, this is Harry."

"Dinnae think I'd actually get to meet you what with Cedric here keeping you to 'imself," he held out a golden tanned hand that was covered in cuts, scratches, and scars. "Call me Alec."

Harry reached out and clasped arms with the newcomer. MacFusty was an old clan. Really old. About as old as the founders houses and all of them had died out over the years. The MacFusty clan were the sole caretaker for the Hebridean Black dragons on an island dragon reserve off the west coast. Lucius complained that they were hermits that rarely ventured off their island but also never let any Ministry officials to enter either. Even the MLE had to jump through hoops to get an apparition approval to enter the wards that was only useable for a two hour time frame.

Harry doesn't think Lucius knows there is a MacFusty at Hogwarts, otherwise he would have surely set Draco after him. "Harry," he offered in turn. "Your hair is amazing."

Immediately Harry flushed in embarasment. 'Idiot. What do you think you're doing?'

Thankfully the other boy threw back his head and laughed. It was a bark of a laugh completely different from Cedric's booming sound and Draco's snickers.

Harry frowned. 'What does Draco have to do with anything?'

"You're a pretty one, I'll give you that lad, but I'm already spoken for."

Harry's horror only increased. "Oh no-I didn't- I mean I wasn't- I'm not really thinking about courting right now and probably won't for a few years yet."

This time both Cedric and Alec laughed. The only thing that kept Harry from fleeing was the arm from MacFusty that wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him bodily into a warm chest. "You need to loosen up. I was just teasing, Harry. Truth is if it weren't for my fiance, I wouldn't mind your company." he winked at Harry making the blood rush hotter to his face.

"Leave off it," Cedric grinned at the two of them. "I thought you wanted to see him duel not flirt."

"And so I did. What do ya say: care to take me for a spin?"

Harry scowled at the pair but felt the edges of his lips quirk up. If his ears were red the entire time they were practicing then both boys mercifully didn't comment about it. By the time he parted ways with the two fifth years right before the dinner hour he was in a much better mood. One look at Zabini's smarmy face ruined it instantly. "Not one word," Harry warned the Italian as he sat down, "I will hex you."

"Harold's in a bad mood. What did you do to my darling, Zabini?"

Harry scowled at Helena but accepted the pumpkin juice when she passed the pitcher to him. "I'm not in a bad mood. Some of my classmates are entertaining a foolish idea and need reminding that I bested a sixth year in a duel and am more than capable of handing their arse to them if they pursue it any further."

Helena arched an eyebrow as she tucked a stray curl behind Harry's ear. His hair was beginning to become just slightly more unruly than was acceptable for the messy style he was carefully maintaining. He would have to do another sleekeazy treatment tonight. "Do I need to step in?"

Conversation near them halted at Helena's words. Despite her normal teasing nature around their year thanks to her cousin being Theodore Nott and her fondness for Harry, Helena Dodderidge was a fierce and terrifying woman within their hierarchy. She had been unchallenged since her first year as the undisputed head of her year and was ranked only second to McGregor who was Head Boy this year. When Helena threatened to step in on his behalf, it was not something anyone took lightly. He smiled softly at her, his sour mood alleviated at her unexpected show of support. "No, Helena. Zabini's just being a git."

Her affable smile came back in the next second and loosened the rising tension at the table. "You taking the piss on Harrison? That's hardly something a prospective ally should bother with."

"I'd never laugh at a prospective ally," Blaise grinned devilishly, "Besides, Harry's really divine. It would be rude." At those words the italian jumped up from his seat but couldn't avoid the stinging hex Harry threw at him- and Draco when the blond laughed as well. "I received one of Lockhart's stupid love grams," he explained to Helena who looked amused at the younger student's antics.

"Oohhh... Harold's got himself a girlfriend has he?" Helena was beaming, an expression that incited terror in any who truly knew her. "Can't say I saw that one coming. I thought for sure he'd be family."

The sound that came from Nott's mouth that time sounded like a scream surfacing from the depths of a bottomless pit. It was quiet and tinny but no less filled with mortifying terror. By this point, Harry felt truly bad for the boy and wished to obliviate whatever knowledge he had that allowed him to translate Helena's odd ramblings to english. Catching her cousin's tortured sound Helena grinned. "Not for you, dear cousin. Someone like him would have standards and would expect a certain level of dominance in his life. I was scouting for his future dom, but it seems I came all too late."

Blaise's eyes flashed in understanding. "Oh." Then his nose wrinkled and his face scrunched up. "Oh! That's horrid. Vincent would be more suitable if you want a more assertive person for him."

Helena's grin sharpened. "You think so, Zabini? Not in the running yourself?"

Harry's gaze traveled around the group in confusion. Nott looked to be praying to the gods, but thankfully Draco and Vince looked just as confused as he. (Or rather Vince looked to be a tad bored but that was his default expression.) Zabini scoffed. "Too pretty for my taste and I'm the sort of bloke that likes to be worshiped." He said all of this with a coquettish smile on his lips that looked very handsome if Harry was ignorant as to his more negative personality traits. (There were a lot and they had the horrible habit of sprouting up right when you were about to forget how much an arse he really was.)

Draco snorted. "Worshiped? You?! Who in their right mind would worship you?"

Blaise smile widened. "I have no doubt I'm in for a long wait but when one sees their ambition laid bare they are not apt to stray."

"I knew it!" crowed Helena completely covering Nott's attempts to bludgeon his head against the large wooden table. (Harry was wondering if he should get someone to pose an intervention at this point...)

Draco scowled at the both of them and lifted his chin pointedly. "Well I don't know at all what you're nattering on about. Either of you."

"It's for the best I reckon," Harry said catching Vince's eyes with a questioning gaze.

Vincent shook his head. It seemed he was just as lost as them. Harry would ask Goyle but he feared the other boy would actually know what was going on. There were just some things Harry was better off not knowing and by Nott's antics, it was best to never speak fluent 'Helena'.

* * *

**A/N: I know it is a short chapter and for that I am sorry! This was mostly to further along some character developments, introduce some plot points, and move forward the year. So it is pretty much a filler chapter. Fear not, the next chapter is longer than this one and will feature the climax of Harry's second year. We finally get to see the Chamber of Secrets and the dashing Tom Riddle within. It's not the end of the year proper, that will be chapter fourteen (which is my personal favorite so far because it signifies a turning point for Harry) but we will get some interesting interactions between characters. And the summer following Harry's third year will be a bit lengthier than the past summer chapter-wise so look forward to that as well. **

**You might have noticed that the updates are coming bi-weekly now. That is due to what I mentioned in chapter ten; I lost my computer and this document so have been writing it from scratch. This has added quite a bit of characters and plot points that were not originally in the story and in turn even more exposition. I'm not even sure how long this story is going to end up at this point but I do know that posting a chapter a week with my new job and musical these next few months will be pretty much beyond me. My apologies to everyone who was expecting me to start up my weekly updates again. I will still endeavor to remain prompt for the bi-weekly ones.**

**Until next time-**

**Bonne Lecture**


	13. Chapter 13

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

With his new interactions with fifth years thanks to Cedric and Alec MacFusty Harry was forming contacts with the other houses at a prodigious rate. Alec, as it turned out (who had insisted that Harry call him Alec to the point Harry had simply given in), was friends with a number of ravenclaw upper years who he was in a study group with for their Care of Magical Creatures class. Harry got himself an invitation to join them on Thursdays during his free period (he had double potions during their Monday sessions and practice with Helena Saturday mornings). The group was comprised of the other three houses and Harry immediately noted Percival Weasley's presence next to a ravenclaw girl who was the first to introduce herself to him. "Penelope Clearwater," she said with an affable smile. "Alec says you're a person of many talents. Glad to have another sharp mind to join us."

Her dark hair was the same burnt oak as Helena's but was pencil straight in comparison with bangs cut low over her eyes which were a muddy brown. It was a hairstyle he saw on many of the girls in the upper forms of ravenclaw actually. (He wondered distantly if it had some significance or was it just a habit of girls to copy one another's hairstyles...?) "Harry Potter," he introduced himself, one of the rare times he had used his step-father's last name.

Clearwater was a half-blood wizarding family, but they were in good standing politically- a Carol Clearwater was a noteworthy historian concerning the ministry and there was a Roger Clearwater who worked within the Daily Prophet as an editor. Carol was too old to be Penelope's parent, but the editor was of a comparable age to maybe be an older brother or an uncle or cousin.

But all of this was unimportant. The point Harry was trying to make was that they were active politically and would expect him to claim the Potter family name since he was declared Heir Apparent. (On a side note, getting declared Heir Apparent was remarkably easy and had been done without his notice since he was the only living Potter scion. The proper papers had been filed when he went to Gringotts with Hagrid the summer before first year.)

"That's Percy Weasley over there, " she waved to where Percival Weasley was frowning at him in the corner. "The blonde is Emilia Dawlish, next to her is Mason Clark and Isaac Ollerton. Don't ask him about the Cleansweeps, he hates flying."

Harry had no idea why he would ask him about a broom, but figured it was something he was simply 'supposed to know' and left it at that. He didn't think the bloke was on the ravenclaw quidditch team, but then again Harry didn't know must of the people on the quidditch teams. Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood he knew for obvious reasons (being that the two were the craziest about the sport and had gotten into fist fights several times about a game or training). He knew the Weasley twins were beaters because they often goaded on the fights between Wood and Flint. He knew his own house's team because Nott was obsessed and had gained the keeper position as Draco had expected and constantly went through their roster. He knew Cedric because who wouldn't notice the fit bloke that won his team the game? Harry had only gone to maybe three games since coming to Hogwarts and two of them had been this year to support Nott.

"You still in there Harry?"

Harry blinked and smiled at Alec. "Yeah. Got lost in thought."

The taller boy grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "If I dinnae know better I'd swear you're related to the Lovegoods. Come on and grab a seat. We're studying occamys at the moment."

Harry didn't recognize the family name Lovegoods (or Ollerton or Dawlish) but they sounded particularly wizardly, if that made any sense. Wizarding names tended to be a bit odder than simple 'Potter'. Which was another reason to despise his step-father. He was sure Voldemort's family name wasn't something so plebian. And he couldn't have claimed the Slytherin name (for whatever reason) because Harry was sure there would have been a record of him within some history text. One didn't just ignore a founder's descendant. He might have carried Gaunt, they were said to be the last offshoots of the Slytherin line in recent history but what little information Harry had found on them left much to be desired. No decent Dark Lord could have possible grown up in Little Hangleton. No, his father's last name was something dark and mysterious. A name that made one glance twice at its wielder. A name like...

"There you go again off in your own thoughts."

Harry glanced up and blushed at the fact that everyone was staring at him in differing levels of amusement. "My apologies," he mumbled before accepting the seat Alec gestured to.

"No, it's cute," Miss Clearwater assured him.

Harry was pleased he was able to limit his facial expression to only show a small downturn of the lips rather than a full blown scowl. "He's pouting, how adorable," the other girl- Emilia Dawlish, Harry reminded himself- smiled.

She reached forward to run a hand through his hair making his scowl deepen. "Hands off, Emi," Alec said, his voice uncommonly serious. "Harry's not a toy. Leave him be."

Dawlish must have understood something Harry didn't from those words because she immediately pulled her hand back, shooting an apologetic glance to Alec. "Yeah, alright. I didn't mean anything by it."

Harry shot a questioning glance at the boy who had invited him but the amber gaze that met his was sparkling with mirth. He winked before turning his attention to the group as a whole. "What was the consensus about the possibility of acromantulas within the forbidden forest?"

Harry perked up at this topic change. Being a second year the closest he normally got to the forbidden forest was going to quidditch games as the pitch was north of the castle. However the fact that the lower years never ventured near the forest didn't quiet any of the stories (mostly fictional, surely) that passed amongst them. The mystery of the place was one of the few about the school that was readily available to be explored and yet forbidden. Students were allowed to explore the castle at will for the most part (excluding the out of bound corridor last year and the chaperone restrictions of this year thanks to the petrifications) which meant with enough time and dedication Harry could discover every secret held within the magical castle. The grounds themselves were hilly and mostly nothing to look at. There was a whomping willow on the grounds and that was a bit interesting but Harry had quickly found the notch on its trunk that would temporarily paralyze its movements to allow one to pick the herbs that grew at its base so hadn't bothered with it much after discovering that. And the giant squid within the black lake made any underwater exploration a death wish. (Alternatively the mermaids liked to occasionally swim up to the charmed glass windows located in the Slytherins common room and startle the first years. They didn't seem to like humans all that much...) "Harry?"

Harry blinked in the sudden realization he had gotten lost in thought. Again! The group as a whole was smiling indulgently at him (except Weasley but Harry thought he had earned the frown the older boy directed at him). "The Care of Magical Creatures course is taught in the forest?" he asked, ignoring whatever teenager thing they were doing now.

He wasn't sure what it was that made teenagers so weird. Queenie and the other third and fourth year girls actually cooed at him last year. And Helena was practically a new species she was so odd. He didn't think a year should make such a different but he supposed he would see when he turned thirteen. Alec grinned as if he knew exactly what was going in Harry's head (which wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but Harry was a fairly competent occlumens and would notice someone even skimming his surface thoughts). Just to be sure, Harry cleared his mind of any non-academic topics and focused on the sixth years around him.

As it turned out the Care of Magical Creatures classes were taught in a small clearing just past the tree line of the forest closest to the greenhouses. During the day, Isaac Ollerton explained ("Just call me Isaac, please. No seriously. Don't call me Ollerton- I won't answer you."), the forbidden forest looked no different from any other wooded area found on the island. Harry felt a little let down about this but the topic of the lessons quickly went to the type of creatures rumored to live in the forest. Redcaps, werewolves, acromantulas, centaurs, and thestrals were among the more interesting inhabitants. "What are thestrals?" Harry asked eagerly.

The group had on-going discussion during their study times and someone was often expounding on a topic broached several minutes ago. Another person would join the discussion and the initial person, having gotten the information they needed returned to studying while the other two continued on sometimes changing topics. The entire process was rather fascinating to Harry and he saw in truth the difference between the houses in how easily the Ravenclaws continued this method of studying for the next two hours. Ollerton and Clearwater were often carrying the discussion but Weasley got involved to add mention of the thestrals which sparked Harry's interest. The redhead's mouth turned down ever so slightly but he had seemed to be content with letting things be with his distaste for Harry so he graciously answered the question. "Thestrals are a breed of winged horse similar to abraxans," he explained.

"Except they're skeletal with leathery wings. And they're invisible to most people," Dawlish continued on when Weasley returned to his essay without any further explanation.

Harry's eyes widened in implication. Thestrals were invisible! 'I wonder if these are the creatures that are going around petrifying people?' Perhaps it was the voice of an invisible flying horse that he heard whenever someone was petrified. How had his father managed to control invisible flying horses? "Are they especially dangerous?"

"No," Alec's voice cut in before anyone else could offer their input. When Harry turned to him he looked a tad grim around the face. "They are considered ill omens to the ignorant masses. Thestrals are gentle creatures."

Dawlish rolled her eyes. "You say the same thing about your dragons, Alec. You're hardly one to judge."

"And yet out of all the species incarcerated after the statute went into effect it is my dragons that have not received a single citation. None of these government-staffed reserves can claim as such, not even the Chinese who have a mountain range the size of our country to hide their dragons away from the 'oh-so-delicate' muggles."

Harry blinked in surprise at the acidity that creeped in along the edges of Alec's voice. He had never heard the auburn-haired boy so much as show disdain or genuine disapproval. Alec was always light-hearted and easy-going as long as Harry had known him which admittedly wasn't very long at all. But even Queenie said so when he had asked and her information network was as reputable as Blaise's if not on the same scale as the Italian.

The tension that Harry seemed to feel was localized to himself, it seemed. None of the other occupants looked worse for wear and Ollerton- Isaac- looked amused at the change in tone. Harry's gaze flitted to Weasley and happened to catch his gaze. He must have looked particularly awful because Percival spoke up then. "Alec you're scaring Potter. We are more than aware of your feelings as to the Ministry's treatment of magical creatures but he is not. Lay off, will you?"

Like a lumos charm from a particularly friendly wand Alec's face lightened and his fire-colored eyes strayed to Harry with a sheepish grin. "Sorry laddie," he apologized.

Harry shrugged- a horrible habit that Queenie and Draco had been trying to break him of. Instead of worrying too overtly about the combined ire of the influential heirs, he focused on instead changing topics. "If students aren't allowed to enter the forest how come they have classes there? It seems pretty dangerous, even with an attending staff member. You guys were speculating werewolves live in the foliage and even Aurors go against them in teams of three."

(Harry thought that the Ministry's aggressive stand against werewolves and the fact that they are regulated to second class citizens has a lot to do with the animosity between the two groups but it would just have to be something else he had his father change when he took over wizarding Britain.)

The rest of the study session went well enough with no more unusual shows of negative emotions on Alec's part. Weasley was even kind enough to escort Harry to Transfiguration as it was on the same floor as his Arithmancy classes. "You're remarkably knowledgeable about fauna and flora for a second year."

Harry frowned. "What does my academic year have anything to do with my herbology knowledge?"

"Neither venomous tentacula or knotgrass are taught until sixth year, aconite is fifth year curriculum."

Harry chuckled at the man's observation. When he received a questioning glance from the redhead he expanded. "It's funny you would mention that because Snape asked about aconite at the beginning of our very first lesson as first years."

"Professor Snape has been known to be... strict. He probably didn't expect you to answer properly."

Harry smirked. "Actually it was the only question of the three I got precisely right. The other two I only partly answered the question, none to the satisfaction of Miss Granger who was waving her hand like a windmill behind me."

Harry thought it was amusing that Granger still raised her hand in such a fashion despite most teachers only calling on her a maximum of three times during any given lesson. He doubted the girl hadn't noticed this herself yet still she persisted.

"Yes. My brother has spoken about her... Calls her an insufferable know-it-all."

Harry narrowed his gaze in disdain. He didn't have many interactions with Ronald Weasley outside of the troll incident from last year and a few run ins where Draco liked to prove the blood feud was going strong between their families... Still, it was obvious that he left much to be desired in a boy of a Sacred Twenty-Eight house. Harry's own adopted father wasn't even on that elite list and still Harry tried to comport himself with honor. Until he received his true father's name it wouldn't do to make himself look the fool. Ronald Weasley, in contrast, didn't seem to care one way or the other and acted out with the sole purpose of being noticed. He was the perfect example of what Gryffindor House had devolved to and the perfect reason most slytherins could not stand the lions. "Ronald Weasley is the last person you should accept information from. He is as biased and ignorant as it is possible to be at our age and seems uninterested in changing either or how he is viewed by those above him in the hierarchy. I doubt it even occurs to him that one day he will not be surrounded by other prepubescent boys just as hotheaded and easily manipulated as he. That eventually he will have to grow up. I reckon it will matter to him though when he finds that his constant disregard for his academics prevents him from achieving acceptable grades on his OWLS and results in his expulsion."

Percival Weasley looked at him with a narrowed gaze that would match well with the analyzing gazes of those of his own house. Harry wondered distantly if the man was probably one of the few that could have been successful in his own house. He had read that sometimes the sorting hat could not immediately sort a student because they were equally suited to more than one house. These 'hatstalls' as they were called were uncommon but did occasionally happen.

"I will admit my youngest brother is... unorthodox..."

Harry snorted. "He is the worst interpretations of his houses' defining characteristics and doesn't care to change. He's gotten 'dreadfuls' in every single potion practical and barely passes the written homework in any given class. He waves around the few acceptables he manages like they're a rank above outstanding and I have no doubt that those are thanks to him copying other students' works. He'll probably take the easiest subjects for our third year which means Divination and Care of Magical Creatures which are largely participation grades."

The prefect looked resigned to the truth of Harry's words. Harry doubted he hadn't had the same concerns for his brother as he was pointing out now. "As I said, he's in for a rude awakening in our fifth year when his grades denies him admittance into our sixth year curriculum and he is forced with expulsion."

"You don't get expelled if you don't pass a year's courses," Percival pointed out.

"You do if your family cannot afford to cover tuition for a retake of an entire academic year, which I've heard is almost double a normal year's tuition."

The redhead's face flushed in indignation. "Now see here!"

Harry turned sharply to glare at the sixth year. "Weasley. Everyone knows about your family's financial situation. The Department for Muggle Relations pays the least of all Ministry jobs and your mother does not work. There are seven of you. Both your older brothers and the twins have played quidditch. That means brooms and quidditch gear and uniforms. Your family are notoriously tall which means growth spurts and new robes almost every year. Add in text books for each child- Defense has a new teacher each year which means you cannot reuse them for anyone else- allowances for Hogsmeade trips, your new owl for making prefect, maintenance for said owl, potions ingredients, herbology equipment, need I go on?"

His face was significantly redder by the end of the little speech but the prefect shook his head in negation. Harry sighed. He hadn't wanted to have such a conversation but now that he was, there was nothing to be done but finish it. "I do not judge your family for their financial status. As far as I know most of you are exemplary individuals and well liked amongst my house, excluding your youngest brother. I ignore Draco's idiocy about upholding a blood feud he cannot even name the origin of and if your brother ever became less insufferable I wouldn't even mind negotiating a cessation of said feud."

At this his face blanched. Harry nodded in confirmation to the unasked question. It was unlikely that Lucius Malfoy would cease the feud on his own and Draco hardly was ambivalent to their year's Weasley but Harry would have the power to negotiate such a deal when he proposed an alliance with the Malfoy family. Being the Heir Apparent of a venerated house that had held noble status prior to his birth (and being the Boy Who Lived) would serve him well in having negotiating power.

But that was only if Harry chose to. Percival Weasley was sure to be a high-ranking official in the Ministry one day and the twins were sure to be notable is some fashion- they were too passionate to not be. William Weasley had grown to be a curse breaker for Gringotts (a rather impressive feat as the goblins were notoriously picky about hiring wizards) and Charles Weasley worked on a dragon reserve, yet another difficult career choice that required a great deal of magical training. But Harry was in the same year as Ronald Weasley, not the others, and as such would be expected to negotiate with him, being the closest in age.

That was not going to happen.

"I will speak with my brother," Percival swore.

Harry tilted his head in the pureblood equivalent of a shrug. "Do what you will but I doubt it will be of any use. He needs to grow up first."

"And he will," the prefect vowed before holding out his arm. "Potter- Harry- if you hold to your word of considering to end this feud, I will do everything within my power to aid you from within my family."

Harry arched an eyebrow in surprise. But then again he really shouldn't have been. With Percival surely shooting for a Ministry job, it would behoove him to be on the good side of a politically influential family such as the Malfoys. No doubt Lucius in particular would simply see the name Weasley and discourage any hiring decisions that would allow him a higher position.

Harry only needed a moment to consider this before deciding that he would lose nothing by offering his word. He clasped forearms with the sixth year. "You have my word," he said.

There was a feeling like static- probably their magic solidifying the agreement- and they released their grip. "Percy? What are you doing here and with him?"

Harry turned to see Ronald Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas making their way towards them from the Transfiguration classroom. They must've seen them from the doorway and come to investigate. Percival straightened his posture and stared at his brother with a narrowed gaze. "My duties as a prefect. Harry needed an escort to class from our tutoring session and I was more than happy to serve as such."

Harry inwardly laughed at the younger Weasley's open-mouthed gape. Finnigan and Thomas passed a confused gaze between them at the familiar way of address. Harry nodded once to Percival before entering the classroom leaving the family to discuss things as they would. He doubted such a blatant show of support would go over so well with Ronald Weasley but if Percival said he would temper his family then it was his right to do so as he saw fit.

"What are you smiling about?" Draco asked as Harry took his seat next to him.

"Progress, Draco. Progress," he said cryptically. With Percival Weasley no longer confrontational, what few limits he would have posed in Harry further ingratiating himself with the upper years was gone. If anything he was sure to be helpful in the years to come in that regard.

Harry's father would be more than pleased at the potential.

"I dread the answer but what progress?" Vince leaned over from his own desk to the right of them. "The last 'progress' you spoke of in such a manner involved your delusions of wearing your summer cloak in winter with nothing more than a mediocre warming charm half-shoddily stitched into the hood."

Harry flushed at the reminder. Warming charms, as it turned out, could only help so much against a Scottish winter. There was the wind to contend with, the moisture from the melting the snow, the snow itself- safe to say Harry simply wore his winter cloak from then on. He had read stories that monsters could feel neither cold nor heat, hunger nor thirst. He was pretty good with going several days with only mild hunger pains (less so now that he was actually made to eat so much) but the heat and cold thing he was still researching into. Harry had thought that perhaps stitching the runic sequence for a warming charm into his cloak would suffice but discovered there was much more than the cold to contend with in winter. "This is not at all like that," he waved his ally away with a stern expression.

Draco smirked, remembering fondly the cloak incident as he had charmed snowballs to hit Harry the entire way back up to the castle. "Oh yeah? How so?"

Harry frowned at the blond. He knew damn well what the nuisance was thinking of. "Because this one will actually work."

Their discussion was cut short with Professor McGonogall's entrance and all talk of Harry's experiments into monster hood were left for another time.

'It's not like I'm to blame for my failures,' Harry thought bitterly later on while studying with Cedric and Alec. 'There's no one to teach me to be a proper monster and I was taken from Father when I was a baby.'

It was a rather sore subject with him, the potential upbringing he could have had if things were different. Even being raised in the wizarding world might have spared him much of the conflict of his first year. He had been ambushed with his fame, his father, his magic. Such a thing could have driven him away from the wizarding world as a whole. He had in fact considered the benefits of returning to Privet Drive more than once last year. Ultimately he recognized the idiocy of such a choice. The Dursleys were not what anyone should want to emulate in any form, even a Muggle. They were ignorant, biased, and horrible people (not completely unlike some of the witches and wizards he had met since turning eleven). If anything Harry thought it would be pleasant to live with Hagrid. He still went for afternoon tea every Saturday without fail- it was his sanctuary and sheltered him from the stress of his everyday life. Draco and Vince had even accompanied him a few times last term (before it got too cold for their tastes) and hadn't been too rude about the whole thing. 'I'll visit Hagrid during break,' Harry decided. 'Perhaps he'll show me some of the creatures he tends as the groundskeeper.'

"What are you doing for the break?"

Harry glanced up from his notes at the question. It was almost as if Cedric had read his thoughts (which was preposterous because his occlumency shields were always present).

Cedric and Alec had needed the time to study for their OWLS but absolutely refused to miss a meeting with him (Alec had been particularly distraught). Harry had simply shrugged and pulled out his own notes and the matter was settled. They had been working in silence for an hour only broken by occasional academic inquiries. This was the first sign that they were losing focus. "Mum wants me home to help out on the reservation. Angus' brood is bound to hatch for the equinox and they'll need all hands to deal with three hatchlings during Beltane."

Harry perked up at the mention of Beltane. He had spent what the Muggles considered Easter hols at Hogwarts last year cramming in some much needed studying and research into whatever caught his fancy. He had been woefully unprepared for the wizarding world and the time to go through the rather dry readings that went over wizarding traditions and customs ad nauseam had been a great help. But this meant he missed out on what seemed to be an important holiday for traditional pureblood families.

"We're hosting dad's department this year. There's going to be at least seven bonfires. Mum's already preparing for the feast- I'll be helping as soon as I return."

"I helped in the kitchens once," Alec nodded in a somber expression. "It was awful."

Harry snorted. He had done all of the cooking at the Dursleys and figured a Beltane feast was nothing but cooking in bigger quantities. 'Then again I did think Professor McGonogall had cooked the welcome feast last year,' Harry thought with an embarrassed flush. When he had complimented her on the feast the next day at Transfiguration class she had informed him that house elves were actually responsible for the meals and cleaning within the castle. Harry had been so confused about the concept that she had later shown him the entrance to the kitchens (after gaining a promise that he would not share the location with anyone else). The house elves of Hogwarts were very different to the Malfoy house elves. The creatures were excitable and energetic while the Malfoys prized silence and efficiency in their own elves. Within Malfoy Manor the presence of house elves were noted in the polished marble and the gleaming silver but never actually seen.

"What is your family doing Harry?"

Harry blinked in surprise. His thoughts had wandered once again off topic. "The Dursleys are muggles and hate magic," Harry shrugged right before remembering he wasn't supposed to. "I will spend the break here training."

'Maybe I'll try to find the entrance to Slytherin's chamber when not with Hagrid,' Harry thought to himself, completely missing the look passed between the two fifth years.

"What do you do for summer hols then? You can't stay at Hogwarts all year, you know," Alec pointed out.

Harry glanced up from his thoughts and nodded in acknowledgement. "I spend the other breaks with the Malfoys. Lady Narcissa has been tutoring me in different subjects a pureblood should know. But I'm almost fourteen so Lucius Malfoy will probably want to start talking about house business." Harry frowned at the thought.

This time he did see the look that passed between the two hufflepuffs but had no idea what it meant. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Harry," Cedric began, some form of silent communication passing between him and Alec, "Would you like to attend my family's Beltane festival?"

He hadn't expected that! Sure he and Cedric had been training together for months but he hadn't thought their relationship was so good to garner an invitation to his family's estate- and on a holiday, no less. Even Draco's initial invitation to spend the summer with his family last year hadn't been so forward as this (mostly because Lucius had extended the invitation in hopes of Harry feeling indebted to the Malfoy patriarch). Harry wasn't sure when it happened but it seemed that he had become friends with Cedric Diggory. Maybe even allies, pending Cedric's father's approval. "I would be honored," Harry spoke with the gravity the situation called for.

Draco, as Harry should have expected, had one or two complaints...

"He's a Hufflepuff, Harry! You can't jump a Hufflepuff's bonfire! And what would father even think? You're going to Amos Diggory's ministry party but not ours. With a Hufflepuff! He's almost sixteen Harry. Practically at his age of majority and you're just going to gallivant through their Beltane celebration as if we haven't been working towards an alliance for the past two years. Have you no dignity? He's a Hufflepuff!"

Harry couldn't help but smile indulgently to the dramatics of his blond ally. Draco did love to flail about in the safety of the common room which is why Harry had waited until the day they were to leave Hogwarts for the break to tell him. He hadn't truly wanted to deal with such theatrics for the past week. No, it was best to let the others assume he was staying at Hogwarts as he had last year. "Are you quite done?" he asked when Draco flopped down into the chaise across from him with a pout.

"I don't even think you were listening," he moped.

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Of course I was listening. You find insult that I did not ask to attend your Beltane celebrations-"

"And he's a Hufflepuff," Zabini called from across the room where he lounged spectacularly on a stuffed chair, a transfiguration textbook forgotten in his lap for the entertainment that was Draco.

"Yes, that," Harry agreed. "And that he's a Hufflepuff. The first I can understand but the second makes no sense."

Draco scowled. "Hu-ffle-puff," he hissed in emphasis as if that made any more sense.

"Yes. He's also ranked fifth in his year academically and hails from a traditional pureblood family of great repute. Honestly the only reason I'm going is because I thought you would appreciate the direct connection to his house. It's not like you've made any attempts to gain his notice."

"Harry," Draco all but whined. "He's a Hufflepuff."

"As you've mentioned. But I'm sure you're beyond the point where you believed that Hufflepuff was the house for those not good at anything else. Helena would be more than pleased to give you examples of hufflepuffs that should be respected," Harry warned.

The blood practically drained from Draco's face. Last term some plucky fourth year had had the misfortune of demeaning the badger house within earshot of Helena and the resulting hex had resulted in the boy being in the hospital wing for a fortnight. Helena had made it a point to verbalize just what she thought of those who demeaned said house in the common room the afternoon he was finally cleared to return to classes. "No," Draco said then cleared his throat when it came out as a croak, "No. I understand perfectly."

Harry smiled amicably. "Of course you do."

Draco's supposed understanding did not prevent the blond from moping the entire train ride into King's Cross. When Harry greeted the Malfoy's to give his excuses before joining Cedric Diggory at the floo line it was obvious that Lucius shared his son's opinions. "Lord Malfoy looked like he'd smelled something distasteful," Cedric joked when Harry finally tripped out of the fireplace.

"Believe it or not, that was his public face."

Harry glared at the soot that covered his clothes. These were one of his better robe sets and the rest were in his shrunken trunk stashed in his pocket. He'd need to find a house elf to clean up and unshrink his items. Just as he was going to ask Cedric for one's aid, the soot vanished from his person. Harry's head shot up in surprise at the fifth year's disregard for Ministry laws. (It wasn't so surprising that the Malfoy's ignored it, but he had thought Cedric was a little more straight-and-narrow about these kinds of things.) "Cedric. You can't use magic outside of Hogwarts," he scolded. Harry hardly needed to be accused of underage magic with Ministry employees about.

The brunette chuckled and shook his head. "Harry, you're on a magical estate. You mean to tell me you haven't been using magic while at the Malfoys?"

Harry didn't want to say that he figured the Malfoys had more extensive wards on their property than the Diggory's but something of the sort must have shown on his face because the Hufflepuff rolled his eyes. "That's what I thought. The trace is only on the wand itself and outside of that, as long as there is a registered adult on the premises the areal trace can't tell who's cast the spell. Don't use your wand around the guests and you'll be fine, even away from the Malfoy's prestigious wards."

This was news to Harry. Lady Narcissa had told him that the wards covering Malfoy Manor were older than even the Ministry and were goblin-made besides- there was no tracking charm in existence that could pierce the thick wards, even apparition and portkeys were ineffective. Harry had thought it should have been obvious why the Ministry wouldn't be able to sense him and Draco using magic during the summer and Yule hols.

But what Cedric said made sense as well. How else would the Ministry know if a student in a magical house cast outside of Hogwarts if they didn't check their wand? The type of wards needed to track specific magical signatures was very complex. One would have to be a master in magic manipulation, spellcraft, ancient runes, and macro enchantments to even begin to speculate on such a charm. And Harry knew for a fact that there were only a handful of master magic manipulators in the world- only one in Britain- that also was a master in ancient runes. Enchanters were pretty common, but macro enchanting was a dying craft. It was just easier all around to add spells after something large was created, not during, which reclassified it as warding at that point.

But that meant as long as Harry had an adult wizard nearby to act as a supervisor (and wasn't in a predominately muggle area) the Ministry wouldn't care if he did magic outside of school. "That's brilliant," Harry grinned up at the taller boy.

Cedric returned his expression with a far more amused smile. "I thought you'd think so. Come on then. Let's greet my parents."

Harry followed dutifully, still mulling over the sudden possibilities before him. As long as he was in the presence of an adult, and he used wandless magic, the Ministry would not punish him for using magic outside of school. In fact if Harry played his cards right, even if he wasn't under direct supervision he might be allowed to get away with some innocuous spells. Nothing too advanced, but simple every day charms... "Well met Heir Potter."

Harry blinked in surprise. He had been so caught up in his own mind he hadn't notice Cedric leading him outside. There were a few people setting up for Beltane which would take place the following night, white and silver flowers been charmed as centerpieces on the long tables set out for the feast. In the distance he could see someone had already erected the maypole and was already charming the floral reef at the top. "Harry," a voice interrupted his thoughts once again.

He jumped in surprise then blushed at the two amused gazes that were focused on him. "Don't mind him," Cedric said over his chuckle, "He tends to get lost in thought a lot."

"Don't mind yourself," he grumbled at his friend and bowed low to the man before him. Amos Diggory was the head of a Light family of the likes long understood in tradition. Before the Ministry's propaganda had sowed deceit and strife between the three core designations a light and dark house could meet and interact without politics getting in the way. Harry hoped that his efforts in creating a positive relationship with the Diggory family now would pay dividends when he eventually declared his house Dark when he became acting Head. "Well met, Lord Diggory. You have a lovely estate."

"My son tells me you've been spending quite a bit of time at the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. I'm afraid my abode makes for a very poor substitute."

"Nonsense. Your estate has a charm all its own that I'm sure many of your guests would seek to replicate in their own homes in the future."

Amos Diggory flushed at the praise and laughed jovially, his glasses glinting in the sunlight as he threw his head back. The man laughed with his entire body and Harry could easily see where Cedric got his enjoyment of life from. They looked remarkably similar in the way that Harry was beginning to expect in pureblood houses. Lord Diggory had a few more laugh lines and was a little rounder than his quidditch playing son, but their golden brown hair was the same and the cut of their jawline. Their eyes, though, were different colors. 'Perhaps from his mother', Harry mused.

"My boy if I didn't know better I'd accuse you of buttering me up," Lord Diggory said good-naturedly.

Harry gave the man the expected conspiring smirk. "I only speak the truth Lord Diggory."

Lord Diggory chuckled. "Oh you are a charmer I see. I'll have to introduce you to the missus. She's going to adore you, I can already tell."

He led them through the house proper and it was indeed a bit 'less' than the ostentatious finery that Harry had become familiar with thanks to the influence of several generations of Malfoys on what passed for interior decorating in an estate that was more reminiscent of a chateau than a manor. But the warmer tones of the hardwood floors, the several windows bringing in natural light streaking through the air, and the several vases of flowers that were placed everywhere made it astoundingly beautiful in its own right. "Truly your home is filled with Light and life," Harry spoke kindly.

Cedric shot him a pleased grin as his father threw back his head and laughed joyously as he gestured down the hall. Harry was pleased that the man seemed to be so perceptive to liking him. There were sure to be some Light families that would assume him to be Dark thanks to the company he kept. Others (Dumbledore, for one) would probably label him as such simply because of who his father was. He was Grey, actually, discovered through several months of trial and error into the deepest parts of each branch and into the center of his own core. What truly made magic dangerous, he felt, was that some people did not treat it with the correct reverence it deserved. Most witches and wizards could probably use the basic spells in each branch without being much for wear but too many dive in the deep end on one branch and end up unbalanced. Dark magic, he's realizing, poisons the mind but Light magic poisons the core itself. There were several upperclassmen (especially the more… unpleasant individuals…) that he could see the signs in their magic that they had dabbled too heavily in the Darker aspects of the world.

Harry felt the tingling of the stinging hex before it hit him in his right arm. "Ouch," he hissed and glared at Cedric, the obvious guilty party.

Any retribution he might have enacted was waylaid by the strange phantom that was peeking from the doorway leading into the hallway. It looked like a child… but between one blink and the next it vanished. Harry was immediately curious (a trait that Vince said was more likely to get him in trouble than not) but a second stinging hex had his attention switch sharply to Cedric once again. The blond merely gestured with his eyes to further into the room. Harry obediently reoriented on Lord Diggory who was grinning affably and making expansive hand gestures to the woman standing next to him. She was much more composed than her boisterous counterpart. "-and this is my dearest Penelope, the lady of the house," Lord Diggory finished.

Harry stepped forward to bow over the woman's outstretched hand. "Lady Penelope, you have a beautiful home. I would like to express my gratitude for being invited to join you in the festivities."

Her face lifted into a smile much sharper than her husband and son. (Harry noted that her eyes weren't the same color as Cedric's… perhaps the Hufflepuff had a latent gene? Such a thing had seemed to be uncommon for purebloods where the younger generation took after their parents so heavily in appearance, but who really knew when it came to science?) "We are honored to have you here, of course, Harry."

Harry pointedly did not wrinkle his nose at the casual and informal address, but only because the lady had turned to gesture at her kitchen which was teeming with magic in progress. Dishes were being scrubbed in the large sink, vegetables were being chopped on the counter next to it, a large pot of something was being stirred further down, and on the large table in the center of the room there were two house elves that were assembling large floral arrangements bigger than Harry was tall. "As you can see preparations are well underway. Cedric tells me you two wished to help in the kitchens?"

Harry nodded, ignoring the helpless expression Cedric shot him at being lumped in with his endeavor to be helpful. "I would be honored to, if you do not mind. I have experience assisting my aunt with meals and am quite comfortable in the kitchen. Cedric and Lord Diggory looked to be taking measure of the progress outside and I would hate to disturb the progress there."

Penelope's smile was more gentle now, especially around the edges. "A young one after my own heart." She turned to her husband and son. "You two can run along now. Harry and I have a few things to attend to without any silly boys stumbling about."

Harry ignored her usage of his given name once more (and the fact that she excluded him from the other 'silly boys') and waved Cedric away. Lady Diggory was a nice enough sort, he supposed, but some of her niceties came across as affected or rehearsed. She also ignored his hints that she shouldn't call him by his first name no matter how many times he purposely called her 'Lady Diggory'. She even cooed at him several times when he had to stand on a stool to reach a cabinet or chase after a wayward tool that flew out of his reach (somehow he didn't think he should show anyone that he could do wandless spell casting and more to the point there was just something not quite right about Lady Diggory). All in all, it was oddly reminiscent of the beginning of his interactions with Queenie and the other fourth year girls. He was relieved when she decided to show him to his rooms after only two hours. "You were a remarkable amount of help, Harry. Much more help than any silly boys," Lady Diggory remarked, once again omitting Harry from the male gender.

"I'm glad I was of help. I truly appreciate your hospi-tali...ty…" Harry droned off at the end, having caught a flash of white reflected in the decorative mirror on his left. The white phantom, that was indeed a little girl, was only a few feet behind them, hiding behind one of the large flower arrangements. Harry blinked in surprise. Once could have been his imagination but seeing the same ghost-like apparition twice meant either there was a ghost in the hall or Harry was losing his mind. (And although he wasn't going to completely disregard the possibility of the latter he was a bit young to lose his mind, monster or not.) Of course when he turned around the phantom was gone. 'How curious,' he thought before turning back to Lady Diggory with a placating smile. "Do my rooms have a view of the grounds? Your estate is rather beautiful and I would enjoy gazing on it some more."

Thankfully the woman ignored any eccentricities of Harry's (as he found most people tended to after meeting him) and easily led him to what was to be his room during his stay. Unlike Malfoy Manor where each room was actually a set of personal living quarters, he was actually shown to a bedroom about the size of the second year boy's quarters. Which meant it was plenty large for a bedroom but not so much that Harry felt uncomfortable, the way he sometimes still did with the effortless show of wealth the Malfoys always exhibited. "If there is nothing else," Lady Diggory said from the doorway after she had given Harry a moment to peruse the room, "then I will depart. My husband has been sure to have gone awry in his duties and will need me to get him back to task."

Harry bowed in farewell, a smile on his lips at the thought of the Lord Diggory. It did indeed seem like something he would do. "Actually, there is," Harry thought remembering the fleeting glimpses he'd seen throughout the day. "Are there other children living here?" Harry knew enough about adults that they would consider him a child despite him not actually being human. They'd probably even consider Cedric a child because parents were funny like that.

Lady Diggory's face closed off in a pureblood mask equivalent of a Gringotts vault door slamming shut. Harry was rather surprised to see the occlumency technique about such an innocuous question. Lady Narcissa had always said that such a show of emotion (or rather the lack of emotion) should only be used in certain situations where the person you wished to hide information from has no way of actually gaining that in which they seek. It was still a pretty hardcore indicator that you wanted to hide something, though. "No," the Lady finally said. "There is no one here." And with that she closed the door.

Harry spent quite a bit of time thinking about the little mystery of the little girl he had seen. Initially he had been inclined to call her a ghost, but she was much too solid for that. She was much too calm to be a poltergeist like Peeves but Harry wasn't entirely sure that she was a spirit. Ultimately it wasn't any of his business what secrets the Diggory's held within their estate even if he was a guest currently. He would ask Cedric tomorrow and if he was met with the same avoidance as his mother then he would leave it be. Light or not, Harry was sure that gaining the ire of a noble house was a poor political decision in all aspects. That didn't keep him from thinking of the mystery of the non-ghost girl that haunted the Diggory Estate.

Harry doesn't remember what dreaming was like prior to discovering his mindscape. Upon first learning about the internal organization of the mind through advanced occlumency Harry had fallen into a meditative state almost every night to travel through the world within his mind where the tangibility of magic could be controlled and limited. Within his mind palace Harry learned to distinguish between the different tastes and tones of magic. He became more familiar with the low rumbling sensation in the back of his molars that was Hogwarts or the sharp tinny ringing in his ears that was the Headmaster's magic that got louder and sharper when he cast a spell. He also became intimately familiar with his own magic's coloring and taste, how a part was dark and bitter and cold. Another part was warm and golden and light. Then there was the other magic that was green and leafy and growing.

Tonight Harry wasn't bothering with playing with his magic (which manifested as a large sprawling tree who's canopy towered over the rest of the vegetation of his mindscape garden). Instead he was playing in the bed of flowers that had appeared in the glen on the edges of his mindscape. They were small white flowers with a red center spanning a circle with a radius of ten feet and slowly spreading. Harry supposed it made sense that his thoughts about the ghost would populate the surface of his thoughts even this deep into his subconscious. Helena had always warned he was prone to obsessing over the most inconsequential things until he got an answer and this probably wouldn't be any different. Harry wasn't going to cause an incident with the Diggory family out of curiosity but he was sure to dig for more information.

Rather than spending the time studying or practicing his magic like he often did at night, he played with the flowers, allowing his mind to propagate the idea further. Honestly there wasn't much he knew about the phantom so ultimately she ended up on his back staring up at the sky as the time passed by, content in his solitude.

Harry doesn't quite dream anymore, not in the traditional sense but he thinks sometimes, when he isn't doing anything in particular in his mindscape, he comes close. The sky begins to snow after some time. There are no white fluffy clouds, no drop in temperature, just snow. When he leans up to look at the garden that makes up his mindscape the glen has expanded into a meadow with rolling hills and there is a thick layer of snow covering everything as far as the eye can see with the same little white flowers popping up through the snow with little red splashes of red. Harry blinked in surprise at the juxtaposition of colors. "Snow and pomegranate seeds..." he whispered.

"What are pummel-granny seeds?" came a small voice.

That finally dragged him from the last vestiges of sleep, a state he had unknowingly been drifting on for some time. Harry sat up slowly, resisting the sudden urge to yawn and looked again at the image. It wasn't snow at all but the same little girl he had caught glimpses of yesterday while aiding Lady Diggory in the kitchen. "Hello," Harry greeted her, bemused by the sudden appearance of the child.

She looked just as ethereal close up as she had at a distance. Her skin was so pale it had to be called white and her hair matched the color. It was several steps beyond the Malfoy complexion. She looked almost as if color dared not touch her, even the dress she wore was of an untarnished white. The only exception was the two almond-shaped eyes that stared back at him with a softness that calmed the severity of their red color. "What are pummel-granny seeds?" she asked again.

Harry blinked in bemusement. "They are the innards of a fruit called po-me-gran-it," he pronounced the word carefully so she could hear how he said it. "They are the same color as your eyes, I believe."

The girl stared at him in silence for a few moments. Then she tilted her head to the side. "Penelope said they look like blood. Cedric thinks it looks like a silly flower."

Harry shook his head. "I disagree. Your eyes are soft and calm. Much too pretty for either description."

She lifted her chin in challenge and Harry considered the oddity of this entire situation. He was still in his pajamas, Morgana give him strength, yet was having a conversation with a little girl about the best way to describe her rather unusual eye color. "Daddy says they are Dark," she whispered, almost as a confession she did not wish to be heard. "Says I am too..."

Harry kept his face clear of the sudden discontent he felt for the way the Wizarding World of Great Britain handled the distinctions between magic. There was so much he and father needed to do when he returned to power. "Do you want to know a secret?"

The little girl narrowed her eyes suddenly suspicious. "Why? No one tells me secrets, I'm just a silly little girl."

"Because I wished someone had told me this secret when I was younger."

She wrinkled her nose, giving it a great deal more thought than Harry expected from someone so young. After a few moments she nodded her head in acquiescence. "Do you know who I am?" he asked as a precursor.

She frowned and Harry could see her thoughts. 'This isn't a secret,' she is probably thinking. "No. Why? Are you someone important?"

Harry smiled. "Some seem to think so. My name is Harry Potter."

The little girl jolted in surprise, her bright red eyes widening. "You killed the Dark Lord."

Harry was surprised to find that she referred to his father by his title. Generally only those who respected him used it- his followers and the neutral parties that were otherwise Dark. To hear a child sequestered away in the halls of a Light estate refer to his father as such was... strange. "But that is the secret: I did not kill the Dark Lord."

The beginning inklings of discomfort he noticed in her gaze stopped at that admission. Harry wasn't concerned about telling such a thing to a child. He had already noticed her occlumency shields were almost impenetrable through the aura that cloaked her. It was unusual to find a child who had aura so heavily concentrated as hers but it did not appear to be interacting with the world around her which was again... strange. Magic was a naturally curious entity that was always reaching out to the surrounding environment looking for more of itself. But her aura was completely self-contained and was the same bright red as her eyes.

"You didn't?"

"No," Harry confirmed without hesitation. "And furthermore I am Grey. Do you know what that means?"

She nodded her head eagerly. "Yes. Cedric told me it was rare."

Harry nodded. "It is difficult to say because so many do not practice magic from both sides of the spectrum. It means I can perform both light spells and dark spells without injury to my magical core."

"Is that good?"

Harry nodded. "It is how magic was meant to be used, I believe. Dark is not evil. Light is not good. They are magic and magic is not predisposed to either. It is the will we exert upon magic, the wielder, that changes it."

She nodded as if this made perfect sense to her. "I know. Daddy and Cedric glow but so does Penelope and she is never nice."

That was the second time she had called Lady Diggory by her first name and he did not think it was accidental. But there was something else she had said that was more important. "They glow?"

"Yes. Their magic glows around them."

Harry sat back and thought heavily, a smile forming on his face. He had learned early on in his magical education to not talk about anything unprompted, that included anything about people's auras. Careful observation has led him to believe that no one else sees them to begin with, at least none of the other students ever spoke of it in the casual way they spoke of all forms of magic. Which means it wasn't an everyday occurrence that the masses experienced. It wasn't one of the things that Queenie instructed him on that should not be discussed in polite society such as squibs, magical cores, and his father. And although Lady Narcissa had discouraged sharing information that he had a monopoly on, the little girl had already admitted she saw things that others couldn't too. Harry grinned. "You can see their auras too. Why is yours red?"

The little girl shrugged. "I don't know. Why are you three colors?"

Harry frowned. He couldn't actually see his own aura and didn't know what it looked like. If what this girl said was true then Harry could guess based off of his experiences within his mind palace but had no way of confirming his suspicions without knowing anyone else who could see them. One could only expect so much from a little girl. He glanced up at that thought. "What's your name?" Harry asked suddenly, realizing his mistake. It was quite rude of him to have gotten so far into a conversation with someone and not have asked her name.

The girl's face brightened and Harry could have sworn that the sun had crested across her face such was her happiness. "I'm Analise Priscilla Diggory. You can call me Ana." She said and held her hand out.

Harry smiled at what was obviously a rehearsed introduction. He got the feeling that not too many people bothered to ask it of her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady Ana," he said, bowing over her outstretched hand.

The little girl with such odd coloring giggled in unrestrained glee and Harry felt a lightness in his chest from the sound. Children's were so effortlessly happy that it baffled him so many people wouldn't put in the little effort required to keep them as such. "I like your colors," she decided with a wide grin. "Do you want to pick flowers with me?"

Harry returned her smile. "It would be an honor."

Cedric found them in the meadow that surrounded the house several hours later, no doubt retracing the steps of their earlier acts of mischief that preceded them making it outside to pick flowers. Ana noticed him before Harry did despite her back being to the house in which he came from. Harry had noticed throughout the day that Ana's sensitivity to magical auras was stronger than his own in some instances but completely blind in others. For instance she couldn't see the magical auras given off by the paintings or the estate wards that glistened in the sky forming a dome that encompassed the Diggory's land. But she was very sensitive to the magical auras of the house elves (which she avoided with the unrepentant tenacity of only young children) and the Diggory family themselves. "'Lo Cedric," Harry greeted in an especially good mood, his gaze still focused on the flowers he was finishing braiding into Analise's moonlight strands.

"Harry?"

He glanced up at Cedric's tone and arched an eyebrow in question. Noticing the gathering crowd on the other side of the yard Harry realized it must be close to the start of the festivities. He scooped up Analise from the ground and placed her on his hip. She was a little tall for five but quickly settled in close to help balance herself. Harry turned back to Cedric and stopped at the odd expression on his face. "What?"

"You... there are May flowers in your hair..."

Harry smiled and brought a hand to trace an identical flower to the one he had braided in Ana's hair. He had had to pull his hair out of the que he pulled it back in in order to braid it but Ana assured him he looked good. (Admittedly she had compared his image to a prince but Harry much preferred that to the 'pretty' comment that was coming up more and more frequently the older he got.) "Ana wanted to match. What do you think?"

Cedric's smile softened. "I think it is remarkable she is so taken with you. My sister so rarely likes strangers. She's even fearful of the house elves."

"Cause-cause they're weird," Analise huffed in indignation.

Cedric threw back his head and laughed getting a pout from Ana that Harry found adorable. "Well hurry up you two," Cedric eventually said once he was only grinning at them, "The feast is about to start and you two can only be out until sundown."

Ana sniffed at the insinuation that she was too young to participate in all of Beltane and Harry quite agreed. He had done more than enough research to know what 'traditionally' happened after the bonfires had been leapt and the dances had concluded. The type of activities that adults got up to following their celebration of magic often ended with a celebration of the flesh. He didn't see why it mattered to him though. He could dance perfectly fine by himself without pairing up with someone.

Cedric laughed again as if he knew exactly what they were thinking and led the way towards the gathered crowd.

* * *

**A/N: I know what you're thinking! "This person said that next chapter was the climax of second year. I was promised handsome Tom Riddles and basilisks and received Beltane and bonfires instead" and you are entirely right! As I was trying to finish up chapter thirteen it exploded. Much too long for a single update so it was cut into half (as I like to do). So NEXT chapter will be the chamber of secrets debacle. (I give my word this time, for sure... probably...)**

**Outside of my inability to properly estimate plot points in upcoming chapters, I'm sure you have noticed that my update schedule is now abysmal. Unlike most of the world currently, I am not self-quarantined nor faced with endless hours within my home. Perks (or consequences, honestly) of working in a hospital with all of this COVID business going about. I've been working 50+ hours a week for the last two weeks and it doesn't seem like my schedule is going to lighten up anytime soon... So while this fic is most definitely NOT abandoned and is still in progress, updates will be sporadic for the foreseeable future. They might be biweekly but I'm not expecting to be able to commit to a specific schedule at the moment. Sleep is a tad higher on my priority list at the moment. Updates might be a bit bigger due to this. **

**À la prochaine~**


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter is dedicated to Final Syai Lunar Generation. It took me fourteen chapters, but here, as promised, is Tom.**

**See the end for Author's Notes.**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

"How was your Beltane?"

Draco sniffed. "Fine, I suppose. I do wish you had attended."

Harry didn't even bother pointing out he wasn't even invited to the Malfoy's for Beltane. Lucius had extended the invitation that first summer solstice then Lady Narcissa had done so for Yule. None of the three Malfoy members had done so for Beltane. It would have been rude if Harry had assumed his welcome continued past those two holidays, which were arguably mirrors of one another. Draco was very intelligent but he often ignored things that were inconvenient to his own way of thinking. Much in the same way that Lucius Malfoy did. (Which was another reason why he dreaded a formal alliance with the Malfoys prior to Draco himself ascending to Heir Apparent. As things stood currently, Harry would have to have any and all discussions of alliance with Lucius which was hardly a pleasing thought.) "How was your celebration?" Harry asked Vince rather than bothering to respond to the blond.

"Pleasant," Vince responded, a small smile uplifting the corners of his lips. "Greg and his father joined us. My uncle, Lord Alastair was able to attend. We had expected him to still be on the continent."

Zabini appeared suddenly on the other side of Draco and nosed his way into their conversation, as he was prone to do. "Lord Alastair Crabbe?! The Dueling Champion?"

"You're interested in dueling?" Harry questioned, bemused. Vince had spoken of his uncle several times last year and Harry had quickly discovered the man's skill. Not too many people were interested in dueling in the younger years, too busy obsessing over quidditch. He had only been able to have discussions over the esteemed sport with upper years like Helena or Cedric and Alec. Even Vince didn't much care one way or the other and he had been aiding Harry with some of his spells before Helena kind of took over his practical spellwork practices.

Whatever Zabini wanted to say in response was ignored when Goyle spoke first. "Lord Alastair performed first rights upon Lord Crabbe's request. It was a form of magic I haven't seen before and my own family celebrate Beltane every year. The entire feel of the magic was more palpable and his ritual words were different from what I'm used to. It gave the entire ceremony a certain weight I think has been lost to the general public."

"My uncle has always been a bit more traditional than the rest of us," Vince said as they continued towards the Great Hall for the welcome back feast.

As a non sequitur, Harry personally thought they had far too many feasts at Hogwarts for their own good. There was one the night before they left for each break, one upon returning, one for the few holidays they weren't allowed to leave school, one for the end of exams (which he had been told was rarely timed to coincide with the actual end of the school year), and occasionally ones following especially eventful quidditch matches. All and all it meant there was a feast every sodding month. It was a gross show of wealth and gluttony and Harry found it distasteful. "What's got you all sour-faced?"

Harry blinked at Blaise in confusion. He turned to Vince with an arched eyebrow in question. "You scrunch your nose when you're displeased," his ally informed him, pointing at his own face.

Harry scowled. "I do no such thing," he scoffed.

"But you do," Goyle confirmed with an easy smile, "Don't worry, the girls think it's cute."

This only made his scowl deeper.

Zabini snickered in a completely unbecoming fashion and Harry sent a nonverbal stinging hex at the git for his troubles. He raised his wand in warning to the others. "I do no such thing," he repeated, "The girls are barking mad and we shan't speak of their opinion of me in my presence any longer."

Draco looked completely unimpressed with his theatrics. "I'll remind you of that when you're trying to get information on a crush you have in fifth year."

Harry scowled at his blond ally. "And I'll remind you that I've decided I'm not marrying some silly girl. Much more trouble than it's worth, I'm sure."

Vince stared pointedly at him but thankfully kept his previous rebuttal to that particular discussion to himself. Harry knew very well the other boy thought the Dark Lord could potentially force the issue but his father had waited until he came across a Star before he decided to have an heir. He doubted the greatest wizard alive would allow Harry to settle for just anyone, much less one of the flighty girls that tittered about in their giggling packs. "Besides," Harry continued, "OWLS are much more important than courting."

This was met with several degrees of amusement from the surrounding crowd as they entered the Great Hall. He saw Cedric and Alec already seated at their Hufflepuff table, chatting animatedly. The younger of the duo threw back his head and roared in laughter. Harry was moderately dazzled by the flash of sharp incisors and the flush that stained Alec's cheeks. "Alright there Harold?"

He sighed, but didn't give Helena the benefit of a more pronounced reaction. When he turned to the brunette his face had morphed into the aloof smile an Heir. "Helena. How was your Beltane?"

"Smashing, if you must know. It came as a surprise when I didn't see you at the Malfoy festivities. I was to introduce you to my aunt."

Draco sniffed pointedly at his place at the table and was summarily ignored. "Another time," Harry stated. He had no idea who Helena's aunt was (which was grossly inept of him considering how important she was to his standing within the hierarchy, what with Professor Snape being a pillock and all).

"I'll hold you to that then." Harry arched an eyebrow at her warning tone. He had said 'another time' and he was a man of his word, hardly one to say things for the sake of pacifying others (even Draco had learned that if he pushed Harry too far, he would be hexed for his troubles).

"Miss Dodderidge," came a familiar voice, "I do hope your time away was spent well."

Harry turned to see Percival Weasley standing only a few paces away, a pleasant smile on his face. "Percy," Helena nodded, a smarmy grin on her face. "Is it already time for rounds to be drawn?"

The boy looked mildly afronted. "Yes. As it is every year."

"Ah," Helena sent him a wink but followed after Percival without complaint, "It slipped my mind. Lead the way."

"What do you have planned for the afternoon?" Goyle asked as they all took their seats around the table. "It'll probably be our last weekend of freedom before everyone starts preparing for exams."

"Harry and I are going to catch up, aren't we Harry?" Draco cut in before anyone else could offer their own opinion.

Harry arched an eyebrow at the odd behavior. "I'd planned on going to Hagrid's for tea, actually."

"Perfect!" the blond smirked before turning back to his plate.

Harry passed a questioning glance to Vince who was normally the one to explain the blonde's eccentricities but the older boy merely shrugged and reached for the pumpkin juice. Deciding to take his lead, Harry decided to eat a little something before going to visit his friend.

"Hagrid? Is everything alright?"

The normally jovial man was as pale as the moon and looked to be running on very little sleep when they joined him for tea. His beard was more unkempt than usual and even Fang hadn't jumped up when Harry and Draco paid the man a visit. Following the 'injustice' of Harry spending Beltane at Cedric's estate the blond had taken it as a threat to their future alliance and had been following around (i.e. stalking) Harry everywhere he went. This made it more difficult for him to sneak away to study with the upper years, a secret he still very much wanted to keep from his classmates. He hadn't gotten to the point where he would cast disillusionments or silencing spells on himself to sneak away but it was a near thing. Instead, he had taken the time to visit Hagrid more which turned out to be sorely needed as his friend looked to be worse for wear. "Oh. Nothing, nothing. How's yer classes been? Almost third years yeh two are. Know which classes yeh want to take?"

Harry nodded at Draco to go first, for surely he would be the more robust explanation of the two of them and set back to enjoy his tea as the blond went into just why his elective configuration of Arithmancy, Divination, and Care of Magical Creatures was the best options for a future Head of House. Harry, having had upperclassmen from all four houses tell him that Professor Trelawney was ecentric to say the least and downright a waste of an elective to say the worse (Helena) was disinclined to believe the usefulness of taking Divination. Tactfully he kept this opinion to himself and instead tried to observe the mountain of a man before him. He had done some supplemental reading on each subject hoping to come up with a more informed decision as to what classes he would take. Honestly, he wasn't even sure what career he wanted to pursue when he graduated. Surely by then his father would be returned to power? At that point his career will be dependant on the monster's good will and honestly Harry would have little need for the proper credentials, despite his belief that he would need to be more qualified in comparison. (Alternatively he thought it rather odd that they would not have career discussions until fifth year when by that point they're stuck with whatever their thirteen-year-old selves thought would be the easiest classes to take.)

"What about you 'arry?"

Harry blinked out of his thoughts to notice that Hagrid was looking at him. "I think arithmancy and ancient runes are worthwhile pursuits of anyone wanting to understand more obscure magic. At the same time Care of Magical Creatures will be a boon if they teach Alchemy our fifth year and could only aid me in NEWTS potions. I can honestly find use in any of the offered subjects."

Draco rolled his eyes but had a fond smile on his face. "Meaning you would take every class if they would let you. Honestly Harry you're such a nerd."

"Who was the one that made a color-coded study chart for finals?" Harry asked with an arched eyebrow.

The two devolved into a good-natured bickering and allowed Hagrid to go unquestioned about his strange mood (although not without Harry paying special attention to the man's intermittent tremors). When they left the man's house Harry was sure that something was terribly wrong with his first friend he decided that he'd send more time with him to hopefully offer some solace (or more likely, be an eavesdropping ear to find out what the problem is and rectify without the other knowing).

After having tea with Hagrid two days in a row with no closer to discovering what was bothering the man (and Draco stalking him to everyone) Harry finally gave in and used a disillusionment charm to duck his blond ally's separation anxiety. It only took two days of using such a tactic before it became less than effective and Harry had to instead send Blaise to intervene (after offering him his notes for the third year Arithmancy curriculum he had managed to put together in bribe, as if the git wouldn't have gladly enjoyed taking up all of the blond's time anyway). Thus, Harry found himself quite alone and content in the library Thursday afternoon and interrupted anyway.

"Hey Harry!"

Harry glanced up at the chorus of shushes that rang out in the library following the call. Only one person was so bold as to actually shout in the library. "Alec," Harry greeted as the bloke came striding up in his usual dominating gait.

(Wearing quidditch robes at that. There was something especially distracting about the Hufflepuff colors to make all the blokes look fiendishly fetching in the tight leather trousers that they had adopted this season.) "Ya know Zabini, aye? He's in yer year?"

Harry's wandering eyes snapped to the topaz gaze of his acquaintance with a scowl flitting across his face. "Yes I am well acquainted with Blaise Zabini. What is it you need from him? I can guarantee any information you barter will not be worth the price it will cost you."

Alec just gave him that sharp-toothed grin that made Harry question if some of his ancestors had actually been dragons rather than simply watched over them. "I can handle myself around one serpent. I jus' need an introduction."

Harry rolled his eyes. Nothing good would come from someone getting an introduction to the Italian, but Alec was a year shy of his majority and was more than capable of fending for himself. If he insisted on entangling himself with someone like Blaise then it wasn't Harry's place to stop him. "I'll introduce you after you sit your OWLS. Cedric would jinx me if I gave you something else to focus on when you should be studying for Ancient Runes."

Alec's gaze blazed with mischief. It looked like fanned embers resided in the center of his irises. "Cedric worries too much but it's no matter. After our exams will be fine. Thank you whelp."

Harry scowled at that infernal nickname and outright snarled when all Alec did was ruffle his hair with an amused chuckle. What was it with the upperclassmen and giving him nicknames? Harry wasn't a difficult name to say and furthermore was pretty mundane as far as names went. He left it be when the Hufflepuff walked off with a wave. Alec had been raised amongst dragons and probably held no fear for adolescent monsters, especially ones so poorly trained.

Which only encouraged Harry to get into contact with his father and take steps to becoming a proper monster. He glanced back to the outdated copy of Hogwarts, A History that he found within the bowels of the library. It was in Old English and written in a calligraphy that made it a task to read but not difficult enough that he would need to actually check it out. Harry was hoping to find a more in depth mention of the Slytherin's Chamber within its contents, sure that any pertinent information had been edited out of the later editions.

So far it has been nothing but information about the towers and grounds. For instance it had been Lady Ravenclaw that had come up with the idea of the moving staircases. Harry thinks the woman must not have considered too heavily the potential pitfalls of this (such as students falling off staircases that moved as they were stepping off or onto it or the moving staircases making them late to classes as they would have to backtrack and try to find an alternate route). It was also of note that the Forbidden Forest had yet to receive its name in the thirteenth century. Harry was wondering if the name was only added following the ratification of the Statute of Secrecy and the reclassification of magical beings discussions that the Ministry attempted with little success. Probably around the same time as the goblin rebellions... That or the staff had done nothing when increasingly dangerous creatures had started residing in the forest and had instead closed entrance to students.

Making a mental note to research the topic at a later date Harry skimmed through the rest of this chapter. He only had about a half hour before Helena would show up to escort him to the dungeons so that they could train for the rest of his free period. This sodding curfew was seriously limiting how efficient he could study every day and it was really starting to irk. Harry needed to find his father's sanctuary and settle all of this 'enemy of the heir' business. He really didn't have any enemies among Hogwarts presently and if anything his father should be setting his sights on the headmaster. All of the students he had been petrifying up to that point had been nuisances if anything at all. The Dark Lord had had his fun and it was time to focus on the return of his regime once again. Harry would have to work tirelessly to implement some restrictions on the propaganda he utilized this time around and assure that he didn't burn the wizarding world to the ground in his attempt at conquest, intentional or not.

But before any of that could happen he would actually have to meet his father. Harry let out a weary sigh and hunkered down to continue his research.

"Where have you been recently? I can hardly find you outside of classes," Vincent asked during breakfast the next morning as Harry sat down in the place reserved for him.

Cedric and Alec's insistence on understanding Harry's methods and improving their own skills had taken up what little free time he had outside of classes, homework, lessons with Queenie, and studying with Helena. If he wasn't so pleased with his improved dueling prowess thanks to the meetings with the Hufflepuffs, Harry would almost be upset that he had so little time to spare concerning himself with his father's machinations.

"He's been mingling with Hufflepuffs," Zabini said, once again proving he knew everyone's business and was willing to share it whether you wanted it common knowledge or not. (Harry was a bit curious as to where he got his information and if he already knew of Cedric and Alec if it was necessary to introduce the MacFusty heir to him...)

"A Hufflepuff, Harrison? Really? Was it Abbot?"

And of course Helena would choose that precise moment to show up. "No," he gave in knowing that between Blaise and Helena he wasn't going to be able to keep Draco and Vince from nosing their way into his dueling practices. "Diggory and I have been sparring. It is nothing incredibly important." (He thought it was best to keep Alec's involvement out of it for the time being. People tended to react with either awe or skepticism whenever Harry mentioned knowing him and neither would be useful in quickly moving past this topic of discussion.)

"Cedric Diggory?" Helena grinned. "Oh he's positively dreamy. A soft dom, definitely."

"Cousin!" Nott shouted, scandalized.

As always everyone else ignored Helena's strange comments. By Nott's increasingly skittish and haunted looks no one truly wanted to know what she was trying to say. Harry felt a little bad for the boy honestly.

But in another way, Nott was annoying himself and could deal with his own family understandings. "How'd your practical go?" Harry turned to the sixth year and changed the conversation.

The grin he gave her was filled with a tad too much teeth but was pleasant enough. "I got an O, you beautiful creature you. Professor Sprout says that if I keep up such improvements she'll even write me a letter of recommendation next year."

Harry nodded, pleased. Helena had managed to scrape together an Acceptable thanks to Harry's interference during her OWL year thus getting into the NEWT level Herbology class she would need to be an Unspeakable. With their continued correspondence- and Harry's near instinctive understanding of herbology and uncomplicated explanations- she had been prepared going into sixth year managing Acceptables on all of her papers and practical work with very little additional help from him. This had been her first Outstanding on a practical assignment and boded well for her NEWT grade next year.

"Well done," he said, just as Parkinson came hustling over.

"Did you hear?" she gasped in an eager fashion, not even bothering to catch her breath before sharing her news.

"Hear what?" Draco piped up in excitement. (He adored gossip even if he'd rather be the center of it.)

"Lockhart's been petrified?" Goyle muttered under his breath to the guffaws of the nearby boys.

"Hear, hear," Helena picked up a goblet in toast.

Parkinson scowled and jutted her chin out in the same way Draco used to do all the time. "No! He is still perfectly well, thank you very much."

"What's with all of the hustle and bustle, then?"

"The groundskeeper has been taken to Azkaban!"

A flurry of excited whispers erupted from their table and spread outwards. Draco and Vince both glanced at Harry whose face was sure to be showing his horror. "Hagrid?" he whispered. 'That makes no sense. Hagrid is the kindest person I know. Even his aura was indicative of his gentle soul! There was no way the man had done anything to deserve an Azkaban sentence.'

When it looked like Harry would say nothing else, Draco ventured to interrogate their classmate. "Why would they send him to Azkaban prison?"

Although uncouth and perpetually disheveled, the keeper of the keys was among the naively nicest people Draco had ever met, thanks to Harry's tea times with him on weekends. His boarhound was also temperate, if a bit drippy. They both could use a few cleaning charms and the less that was said about the man's house, the better, but Draco had not known of anything that could possibly lead to the man being dragged to Azkaban.

"That's just the thing," Parkinson practically beamed under Draco's attention. "The Ministry thinks he's to blame for the petrifications! The Minister of Magic himself escorted him off school grounds just now!"

At that statement the volume of the Great Hall skyrocketed. Harry hadn't even realized that Parkinson was being uncharacteristically loud but knew that within moments everyone would know of Hagrid's accusation. "That's ludicrous," Vince frowned. "I've never even seen the groundskeeper use magic before and he rarely comes within the castle besides. What proof do they have that he is the culprit?"

The girl shrugged, something that was noted by Daphne who cleared her throat nearby. At the reminder Parkinson flushed and stood up straighter. "They didn't say but your father was here. He was talking with the Headmaster. I think Dumbledore's in trouble."

At the mention of Lucius Malfoy Harry grew suspicious. Draco, in turn, perked up. "My father was here? Whatever for?"

"Your father serves on the committee that oversees Hogwarts. He was probably here on official business," Harry muttered. His mind was whirling. Hagrid was arrested, Dumbledore was probably suspended due to the staff's lack of results, the Minister was directly involved now... His father might have gone too far and Harry was still no closer to discovering the monster's machinations if he had any.

He stood and nodded once to Parkinson in thanks. "I need to research."

There were several groans from the nearby slytherins but Harry ignored them all. "What could you possibly be researching now?" Draco whined, despite following him with Zabini on his tail. "The travel restrictions are still in play, you know."

"Everyone's much too occupied with Dumbledore's suspension and Hagrid's arrest to even care about that silly curfew right now," Harry said over his shoulder as he quickly strode out of the Great Hall.

Still, he did bee-line for a side-corridor that cut around most of the larger paths that were sure to be patrolled by Filch and those staff not currently at dinner. (Snape was notably absent much to Harry's displeasure. Time away from the irritable potion's master did not make the heart grow fonder in his case and during their first class back from break the man had deducted ten points from him for disrupting the class with his 'brooding silence', whatever the hell that meant.) They had just exited on the left-side of the first corridor when Harry froze at the words painted onto the corridor walls in a macabre fashion. "'Her body will lie in the chamber forever'," Blaise read at his side, having followed him (or more likely Draco) when they left the Great Hall. "What?"

Harry didn't understand either. It made absolutely no sense. His father's other victims were obviously chosen due to their vexing natures (no matter how small the annoyance). But Harry hadn't really found great animosity with any particular girl all year. Even his interactions with Granger were pretty calm all things considered. And sure he thought women as a whole were terrifying creatures worthy to be regarded with caution but again, he had none that he had any specific strife with. "All students are to report to their dormitories immediately," called Professor McGonagall's voice magically cast through the corridors. "All staff, report to the first floor corridor."

"Harry," Draco hissed, "We have to go now. We're not supposed to even be here."

He glared at the blond. Without saying a single thing he cast a disillusionment charm. It was the first advanced charm he had self-studied and it showed with his nonverbal casting and in how seamlessly he disappeared into the background. Draco swore but quickly followed suit. Zabini had just cast his own spell when the bustle of staff appeared from around the corner.

Harry watched the proceedings with ever-growing confusion. Why would his father allow things to go so far over stupid children? Hogwarts was going to close and the monster was going to just let it happen? This seemed more like a punishment than the acts of an overprotective parent. Why else would he continue to attack people right after they had crossed Harry? And what the hell did Ginevra Weasley have anything to do with anything? Harry hadn't even known there was another Weasley member at Hogwarts!

When the trio finally left the mass of staff they were just in time to see Seamus Finnigan disappear around the corner, no doubt having heard the news. Harry could hardly care as they hurried to the dungeons. Only when they were safely in their dorm room did he begin pacing, voicing his confusion aloud. "I don't understand," he growled in frustration. "Why did he take Ginevra Weasley?"

Zabini, the only one left to hear Harry's musings since Draco and Goyle had left to find Vince, was as lackadaisical as ever. He didn't move from his elegant sprawl across Draco's bed. "Maybe he took offense to her poem."

"What?" Harry snapped, pacing more furiously in his consternation.

"You know, 'His eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad, His hair as dark as a blackboard...' Your love poem in February was from the littlest Weasley."

Harry's frown deepened. He hadn't even noticed she existed honestly so the fact that she had written him a love poem was suspect. But if Blaise said it was from her he was probably right. The italian may have been the most infuriating being in all of creation, but he wasn't a liar. His trade depended too much on his credibility for him to ever even barter in half-truths. And those in Slytherin house were not the people one wanted to cross idly. If Blaise said the poem had been from her than it had. (Although it was a might suspect that he had given up such information freely and without any particular prompting on Harry's part.) Vince came in swiftly followed by Goyle and Draco as Harry made yet another circuit past the door in his frantic plotting.

Even adding the Valentine's Day incident, nothing still made much sense about involving the Weasley girl. Not much of anything his father had been doing was making since, if Harry was being honest. "Why didn't he just call for me?"

"Is there a particular reason you expected to be summoned by the man you killed eleven years ago?" Blaise asked, his gaze sharp and evaluating.

Harry growled through clenched teeth and kept pacing. He hadn't killed his Father, not truly. A monster of his strength would not have vanished for long. Besides, it had been an accident. It's not like he had known what he was doing. "And they're going to send that fool Lockheart of all people to go and retrieve her."

"He is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Goyle pointed out, just as unhelpful as Blaise in that moment.

"Funny that, rather than going off to defend us against the Dark Arts, he went back to his office to 'prepare'," Blaise scoffed, "As if every single one of his escapades depicted in his books had the man with anything more than his wand."

"I sincerely doubt Gilderoy Lockhart capable of defending an entire village from a pack of werewolves for three nights straight," Draco scoffed.

"Or convince a coven of hags to release a host of stolen children whilst being a captive himself," Goyle added.

Harry plopped down in a completely unrefined manner onto his bed and gripped his hair tightly. He needed to do something. Anything. The longer he stood here the closer the Ministry were to his father and if the monster was in the school but hadn't done anything about the Headmaster, he couldn't be in any state to protect himself.

His father was in danger.

His father needed him!

Harry stood with resolution. "I'm going to find Lockhart."

Draco and Vincent were immediately on their feet. "Teachers are patrolling every corridor. The Aurors have been called and the Minister is sure to be here within the hour. How do you expect to find that daft fool before this place is crawling with the Ministry?"

Harry shook his head. "Zabini said he was going to his office. If I hurry, I can get the location of the Chamber from him and go myself."

"Do you really think that he seriously knows-"

"Of course not, but we're no closer to finding it either and I have to warn him!" Harry's voice cracked at the end of his sentence, his voice raised in borderline hysteria.

He was losing control and he knew it. But Harry had to do something. Lockhart was a pretentious fopp but his clothes indicated he was much more than an airhead and those stories he wrote about were traceable to actual events. Even if the man couldn't properly duel, he might be clever enough to have discovered the Chamber of Secrets entrance- he had been a Ravenclaw. And if he knew where it was it was only a matter of time before their esteemed Minister found his way down with a battalion of Aurors to attack his father.

No, Harry needed to get to the man first and warn him about the danger. He couldn't lose his father a second time. He couldn't go back to a life where the Dursleys was the legacy he had to look forward to.

"How do you even expect to get out of the common room? Half of the house is downstairs and the door is being guarded by the prefects on both sides," Vince continued.

"Oh!"

Harry turned to Draco at the blond's exclamation. He had a beginnings of a grin on his face. "I know how we can get out without being noticed."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "We?"

He sniffed once and lifted his chin into the air. "Of course. I will aid you in your undertaking. Vince, Greg, and Blaise can stay here and run interference so that the others don't notice our absence."

Vince was frowning. "Why you specifically?"

"For a number of reasons. First, I'm ranked highest in our year only second to Harry so any of the lower ranked students wouldn't dare mention anything to the prefects. Second because I know the most concealment charms out of us three and most importantly because I'm the closest to size with Harry and this plan allows for very little space for height or bulk. Which means you and Goyle are out on principle. Besides, Harry can't go alone. He's already chomping at the bit to go and might be a little hasty on the draw. We don't need him accidentally cursing a professor."

Harry was going to voice he'd rather have Vince at his side until Draco mentioned the lack of space they'd have. That's when it clicked. His father's cloak! He had completely forgotten about the thing. Again! It was a rare item that was probably worth more than the Slytherin fortune and he kept just banishing it into the confines of his trunk. His father would be disappointed with how Harry was treating their family heirloom. "Draco's right," he acquiesced.

Vincent stared at him for a moment before he nodded. "Then we will play interference here."

"Now wait a minute! Who said I was content to do as Potter commands?"

"Oh shut it Blaise. Stop acting like you're not going to do it anyway then beg me for details to barter with later," Draco snorted in a moment of uncouthness that would probably horrify his mother.

Blaise raised his hands in defeat. "You have seen to the heart of me and for that I expect these details that have been promised."

"You will know only what needs to be known," Harry cut off whatever answer Draco would give. "We are not puppets in your information network."

Blaise smirked but didn't speak again. Harry thought it was a might suspicious that he was being so agreeable about the whole situation but left it be. They were running out of time and even if Lockhart was incompetent, the Aurors would not be so helpful and would get somewhere with their frantic search of the castle. In fact, they had started their search in the dungeon much to many of the Slytherin's consternation. Although they were looking for Slytherin's secret chamber it was obvious to everyone present that if the entrance was in the dungeons then the house of serpents would have found it long before any Aurors could ever hope to, as the serpents knew every crook and cranny of the maze-like dungeons.

The plan, as it turned out, went off without a hitch. Harry had no complaints even, once Blaise had created a rather efficient distraction in releasing information about a previously speculated upon prank that had occurred in the fourth year's boys dorm previously that had remained unsolved. Until that moment that is. The hexes and threats that sprung up from that particular bit of truth had even the Prefects running in to break it up. Draco and Harry slipped out under the invisibility cloak without incident and were down the hall and heading towards the Defense classroom without further incident. (Although they saw two groups of Aurors on their way.)

When they entered the defense classroom Harry whipped off the cloak and folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket in quick succession before heading up the stairs at the front of the classroom that led to the man's office. What they found was a tad unusual. "Weasley?" Harry said, confused at the mass of Gryffindors within the office.

The redhead whipped around and immediately zeroed on Draco. "Malfoy!" he growled, ignoring Harry.

"Hey Potter," the dark-skinned boy waved a few feet away.

"Thomas?" Draco asked.

"Finnigan!" Seamus concluded with a smile.

Three sets of eyes turned to him, but were quickly turned back to the Professor trying to edge to the side. "What are you doing here?" Ron hissed at them as he pointed his wand at Lockhart.

Harry would be the first to hex the idiot if the opportunity was to arise but he couldn't help but think that wasn't the reason why Ron was here, wand drawn. He sighed. Of course he was going after his sister. The fool. "I need to know where the Chamber of Secrets is."

Finnigan snorted and gestured his wand to the professor who was by now scowling at them. "This idiot doesn't know where it is. He's making himself scarce now that he's actually useful."

"Why are you threatening a Professor?" Draco asked.

The three gryffindors glanced from one to another before Thomas began to explain. Although the man's duplicitous nature wasn't very surprising, his idiocy was. Lockhart had actually thought that he would be able to get away with obliviating three students within the halls of Hogwarts (let alone a teacher's office with all of its extra wards to notice those types of things) and no one would be the wiser. It was ridiculous.

Draco looked especially displeased. "Great. Now what? He's completely useless, as I told you he would be." He said this last part to Harry and frowned right back at him.

"We were going to take him with us to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Thomas said before being shushed both by Weasley and Finnigan.

"What are you thinking?" Finnigan hissed.

"They're Slytherins," Weasley protested.

Both Draco and Harry were quick on the uptake. "The entrance to the Chamber is in a girls lavatory?"

"Now look what you've done!" Weasley shouted.

Thomas, for his part, looked unrepentant. "Potter's never been a bad sort and Malfoy's more talk than anything. Besides, maybe they can help. It is their houses' namesake secret chamber. Perhaps there are Slytherin secrets that would make it easier to rescue your sister."

Harry much doubted that there was anything such as 'Slytherin secrets' but he was well aware how stubborn Weasley could be and would take the boon. "Of course there are. It's why we came here to begin with, to offer what aid we can."

Finnigan was the first to shrug. "I'm game. Two more to the entourage!"

Draco scowled, probably at being included in an entourage with Gryffindors, but thankfully kept the peace. Weasley followed his example and made the executive decision to lead the way, thus putting him as far away from Draco and Harry. "Why a lavatory?" Harry asked a few minutes into the walk, tired of the tense silence and Weasley's intermittent grumbles for Lockhart to keep moving.

"A girl was killed last time the chamber of secrets was opened," Thomas explained. "Myrtle Warren."

"Now called Moaning Myrtle," Finnigan added from up ahead. "She's kind of horrible but you can't help but feel bad for her. I mean, she was only a student when she died."

Harry stared at the two in barely restrained surprise. If the chamber had been opened before it must've been his father's doing. But had he really killed a student? "How..." Harry swallowed once, not sure he wanted to know the answer. "How did she die? Who killed her?"

"Someone snuck into the bathroom, a boy, she said," Finnigan continued completely unaware to Harry's rising horror. "She was in there crying or something and went to yell at them but when she opened the door she just died. Just like that."

"Was it the killing curse?" Harry whispered.

"The wards on the school would have notified the staff," Draco interrupted whatever the two gryffindors were going to say, his gaze analyzing Harry. "And the school would have been closed for some time if the Unforgivables were being slung around. We'd have heard about it before now if it had been."

"Myrtle doesn't know what killed her. Just remembered seeing glowing yellow eyes across the bathroom. We figure it must be a big arse snake," Seamus grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Harry and Draco. "You know, since it is Salazar Slytherin's chamber."

The other three didn't know Draco so well, but Harry saw the tightening of his fists and the stiffening of his shoulders that indicated the blond was probably cursing a plethora of someone's ancestors at that precise moment. Harry turned a questioning glance to the slytherin when the others continued down the hall. His gaze looked almost anguished when he spoke softly, so his voice didn't carry. "Basilisk."

Harry felt his stomach drop. A basilisk! A sodding basilisk! In the school?! What kind of moron hid a 50 ft giant snake in a school full of fucking children?! (Apparently his moron ancestor. Parselmouth or not, it was a miracle that no one had been killed. And what in Morgana's name was his father doing sending a basilisk after school children for petty disagreements?!) "This is insane," Harry spoke back, just as quietly.

Draco gave him an incredulous expression that clearly said: "You think?!" before continuing on.

Harry, personally, was surprised the blond wanted to continue. Draco was many things, but recklessly brave was not one of them. Sure he had followed Harry down to the trap door in the third floor corridor last year but that had been more out of curiosity than anything and their safety had been relatively assured (despite the Headmaster's piss poor attempt at warning off the students).

The rest of the walk was spent with Finnigan's pleasant chatter, completely at odds with Weasley's grumbling as if they all weren't out in the halls after hours with a basilisk running loose and attacking students. If Professor Snape saw them he'd sure to blame everything on Harry (even though Weasley was the one with his wand pointed at a professor). Thankfully, they made it to the designated lavatory without anyone crossing their path and was greeted within seconds by the ghost in question.

"Ooh. You lot are being awfully naughty," a high-pitched voice crooned from somewhere above. "Boys aren't allowed in here you know."

As one, the group looked up to the ceiling where a transparent figure sat by the windows set high in the wall. Having garnered all of their attention she began floating down. Harry stared longer at the girl than the rest. He had never seen a ghost so young before. She couldn't have been more than a year or two older than him. But not only was she dead, but she had held so much regret that a piece of her magic and soul had remained here rather than passing on into the afterlife. 'Such a waste of life,' Harry thought as Thomas began talking to her. 'Surely father hadn't done such a thing on purpose...?'

He couldn't imagine anyone- monster or no- that would throw away the life of a child. Harry had never bought into the whole 'pureblood supremacy' that so many older families sprouted and he doubted his father had either. There was no such thing as the blood making the magic stronger. Harry was half-blood and he had bested Percival Weasley, a NEWT student from a noble line. Hermione Granger was a muggleborn that consistently scored higher than almost every other student in their year. (Harry wondered what had been told to the ghost's parents when she had died. How did one go about telling Muggles that they're daughter was killed by a monster?)

"What?!"

Harry turned back to the others at Weasley's indignant squawk. Draco was rolling his eyes. "Think about it logically. All of us disappearing at once will probably be suspicious, you most of all."

Weasley crossed his arms and jutted out his chin in a parody of Draco's own stubborn stance. "Oh yeah?"

"Draco's right," Harry added his own voice to what was probably a very one-sided conversation. "It is your sister that was taken so Professor McGonagall is probably gathering up your entire family right now. Your absence will be noted and traced to Professor Lockhart sooner rather than later."

"Then we best move quickly," Thomas said, thus proving that although he was the voice of reason on the Gryffindor side, he was still a Gryffindor. "Even Ron."

Harry ignored all of them and turned to the sink. If Myrtle saw yellow eyes by the sink it was a good bet that the entrance was here. He stepped closer still and reflexively cast a privacy charm to hide his Parseltongue. "Open."

There were a series of interjections behind him and when he turned around, it was with a big gaping hole open into the bowels of the castle. "Still want to go, Weasley?" Harry asked after letting down the privacy ward, hoping the redhead to be reasonable for once.

Harry had no such luck. "Of course I'm going," Weasley growled as he took several steps forward.

Harry arched an eyebrow at the Gryffindor's bravado. Ronald might be bigger than him but Harry had whipped his older brother in a duel and had only been getting better thanks to the combined efforts of Helena, Cedric, and Alec. There was no way the gryffindor could take him in a fight and everyone knew it. "It will be dangerous. You've no useful skills and your grades are abysmal. What do you expect to offer in aid?"

The redhead stuck out his chin and threw back his shoulders. "She's my sister," he stressed through clenched teeth. "I'm going."

Silence reigned for a few seconds before Harry nodded in assent. Draco, who had his wand half-raised ready to stun the obstinate boy if needed, lowered his wand with great hesitation. "Well it seems like you lads have everything sorted," Lockhart said hurriedly, his gaze still flitting from the opening in the floor to Finnigan and Thomas who had their wands trained at his back. "You won't be needing me, now will you?"

He scampered hurriedly towards the safety of the corridor but was stopped by a stinging hex from Draco. "Oh no you don't," the blond said with a feral smile. "You're going first."

Harry's smile widened as well to something vicious. Lockhart looked as if he would faint. "Now boys, what would that prove?"

"Better you than us," was Weasley's addition.

Being the charlatan and coward that he was, Lockhart could find no fault in that logic and turned to stare into the depths of the school. Then he turned back: "You know, what if-"

Whatever he'd been about to say was lost when Finnigan pushed him into the darkness. Everyone stared at the other boy in surprise but he merely shrugged. "What? He was driving me spare. Not like none of you didn't want to stuff him," and with that he jumped down himself, a cheer breaking out as he disappeared into the darkness.

Thomas rolled his eyes and followed his friend with Weasley on his tail. Draco stared in dismay after the lot of them before turning back to Harry. "Gryffindors! I swear, it's like none of them even recall the monster that's been attacking students all year is supposed to be down there!"

Harry sighed. "Come on, before they get themselves killed. Or worse, find the Dark Lord."

They both jumped into the darkness, only seconds after one another to be greeted by a rather morose cry. "My wand," came a gasp of dismay.

Harry, stepping away from the hole he had appeared from so that Draco didn't run into him, turned to see Weasley's face drained of blood. Immediately Harry saw why. His wand had snapped in two with his fall and a thin strand of silvery glowing hair sparked through the edges. To a wizard, the loss of a wand was similar to the loss of a limb. "Honestly Ron," sighed Thomas before he turned to Finnigan with his hand held out.

The Irishman ruffled through his robe pockets for a few seconds before coming up with whatever he had been searching for and placed a small object in Thomas' hand. The gryffindors huddled together with a weird 'vvvipping' noise coming from between them. When they turned around Weasley's wand had been mended with spell-o-tape.

Draco cackled. "You wanted to come along Weasley. And you've already proven you're a cock-up!"

Harry was sure the blond would have fallen down laughing if it wasn't for the fact that they were in the sewers. He sent a stinging hex at his ally to quiet him (no need to antagonize the gryffindors when they would need them to watch their backs) and turned to find Lockhart. The man was several paces ahead at where this particular pipe branched off. Harry took a few steps forward only to notice the loud crunching under his feet. Looking down Harry cast a lumos.

Finnigan and Draco squaked in dismay and Thomas cursed. "What's that?" Weasley asked.

Harry glanced up at his classmates with a grim expression. "Bones."

The entire base of the pipe they had slid down was completely riddled with the things. It covered the floor like an especially morbid carpet. "Bones?" Draco repeated, his voice a tad higher pitch. "Bones?! Who's bones?"

"They look like animals mostly," Thomas observed as he crouched down. "Probably rats, squirrels, or some such."

Harry thought it was macabre. He doubted their ancestor would be especially pleased with the state his father had left the chamber in. Honestly, it's like the monster didn't expect Harry to even find the entrance. "Now let's not be hasty," Lockhart began again as the rest of them continued gazing around with trepidation. "I'm sure the girl can wait for the proper authorities to arrive."

Ron stomped forward, his face turning red. "That's my sister you're talking about!" he hissed, jabbing his wand at the professor. "Now get going. We haven't got all night."

Harry and Draco passed a silent look between one another. Neither had planned on the Gryffindor's being in attendance and had no idea how to correct the problem. There were three of Gryffindors and only two of them. Plus Lockhart. "We'll figure something out," Draco spoke softly, barely audible above the sound of crunching bones underfoot.

Harry nodded once to his ally and led the way after the rest of the group. Draco could more than handle himself when he stopped acting like one of his family peacocks and Harry had no doubt that anyone or anything that hoped to sneak up on them from behind would be in for a rather rude awakening.

It only stood to reason that that was the moment they came across a massive snake skin. "Merlin's beard!" Finnigan gasped, taking several hasty steps back.

Harry reached out and ran his hand across the rough material. "It's still intact, despite all the moisture down hear. I doubt it was shed more than a fortnight ago."

"Don't snakes grow in size every time they shed?" Draco asked, for once standing united with the Gryffindors and standing a healthy fifteen feet away from Harry.

Harry nodded his head, seeing no reason to lie.

Lockhart fainted.

Finnigan snorted and Harry couldn't help but giggle (a manly giggle!) at the entire situation. A group of second years were nothing more than cautious and this renowned wizard fainted. "Nerves of steel, this one," Weasley scoffed.

Of course that was when Lockhart jumped up and snatched the redhead's wand right out of his hands. Harry's eyes widened in horror, the blood rushing in his ears. "Not so fast Potter," Lockhart turned to him quickly, the wand focused solely on him. "Let's not have a repeat of your prodigious dueling skills, shall we?"

Harry bared his teeth, but did not reach for his wand. He knew wandless magic, of course he did, but nothing useful was coming to mind presently. There was a faint tingling of his feelings at the urge to use the killing curse surrounded him like a physical ache. Harry had found the Chamber- was minutes away from meeting his father- and this charlatan was putting all of it at risk. The tingling sensation flowed further up his arms, numbing his hands, and bringing with it a soft green glow as the man continued to talk.

He thought he had the upper hand. He thought he was safe. But Harry was the son of a Dark Lord, the son of a Monster and a Star. Like hell was he going to- the man whipped the wand around and Harry let out a snarl of outrage. His gathered magic was too weak to be effective, but it still lashed out, hoping to end the threat-

There was an explosion of sound and Harry's entire world bled into darkness.

"Harry? Harry!?"

"Come on Potter, answer 'im already will ya?"

Harry winced at the pounding in his head. "Wah...?" he groaned and turned onto his side- it felt like a rock was digging into his ribs.

"Shout if you're dead, okay?"

"FINNIGAN!"

There was some more rumbling and the sound of shifting rubble. Harry glared around the dark room wondering if perhaps his eye potion had stopped working and he needed glasses again. A few second of frantic blinking cleared his eyesight well enough and the remaining vagueness was due to the dust that was floating in the air. "Well now you've done it Malfoy, way to go."

Harry glanced towards where the voices were coming from and saw a mass of rocks that spanned from the floor to the ceiling. The sight of the great obstruction had him recall what had happened all at once. Lockhart had tried to obliviate them using Ron's recently broken wand and the spell had instead sent him flying backwards and into the cave wall. It must've been enough force to cause the cave-in he presently saw. "Draco?" Harry called over the sound of squabbling that came from the other side.

There was silence for a few seconds before he could hear the muffled voice of his blond ally. "Harry? By the gods, you gave me a fright. Why didn't you answer me?"

"Sorry," Harry placated the other, looking around his side. "Are the rest with you as well?"

"Yeah we're here Potter," came Thomas' voice. "You were the only one interested in the giant snake skin so you were on the other side of the cave in."

"Lockhart's charm backfired though," called Finnigan. "He hasn't a clue who he is."

Weasley's voice came next followed by the sound of shifting rubble, substantially quieter than the rumble of the cave in. "We've got to clear this stuff away. My sister's still in here!"

Harry blinked in surprise at the sudden realization. He was alone! This was the perfect time to catch his father without any witnesses. "I'll go on ahead and try to find her," Harry hastily said, climbing down from his side on the rocks. "You lot clear a way for us to get out when I come back."

Harry was sure his father would know another way in and out of the chamber- he couldn't see the Dark Lord entering and exiting a girl's lavatory when he wanted to set his giant snake upon the student body. "Harry, be careful!" came Draco's voice just as Ron's shouted. "Wait!"

Harry ignored both and continued on at a faster pace. He must be close now. The snake would shed its skin close to its nest, surely. And his father would be where the serpent was. (Probably.) He soon left the sound of shifting rubble and muffled voices behind him and it was only a few minutes more before he came to another door, shaped like a vault with several serpents carved into it. "Open," he hissed, glancing behind him apprehensively to make sure one of the Gryffindors hadn't suddenly recalled a handy spell for moving rubble.

(Draco probably knew several, but he was probably being as useless as possible to give Harry more time to meet with the Dark Lord. Honestly if the Slytherin's weren't so allergic to all things friendship Harry would be inclined to count the blond as his friend...)

The vault door opened into a large antechamber that was already alight. He stepped carefully through the opening and wrinkled his nose at the scent. For a hidden chamber belonging to one of the founders, it smelled absolutely horrible. 'Still water,' Harry thought as he slowly made his way into the chamber, his feet splashing in the shallow puddles of water strewn across the walkway. Honestly, his father could have at least banished all of this water- what did it flood down here and the monster left it as it was? Harry was all for living up to the hype of being a monster but he felt that one should pick and choose which stereotypes to perpetuate carefully. There was no reason for them to live like they were destitute, after all.

A few steps more and the shadows receded further to show a huddled form with bright orange hair. "That must be Ginevra Weasley," he said to himself, his gaze searching for a door.

He had already seen the pipes that led away from this main chamber and really didn't want to get lost in the plumbing just to find his father. He continued past the girl, noting that her cheeks were still tinged pink. Alive, then. That was good. If not for Ronald Weasley or the tentative truce he was trying to negotiate between the Weasley family and the Malfoys then because Harry thought his father should stop threatening students already and focus on Dumbledore. Honestly, it was just a silly poem anyway, not worth nearly half the effort the monster was putting into everything.

Harry noticed a flash of movement out of his peripheral and he whipped around, wand drawn with a lumos charm on the tip. The figure was tall and broad-shouldered with inky black hair slicked back in a style Harry thought was a tad outdated. From this far Harry couldn't see the eyes of the person but could tell it was a man. Also evident was the prefect badge pinned just below the Slytherin house emblem on his school robes. "You're... you're not him..."

Harry let out a weary sigh and glanced back to the prone frame of the girl a ways away. He could see from here the rise and fall of her chest- she was breathing steadily enough. Without any medical charms (of which Harry knew very few) he wouldn't be of much aid to Ginevra Weasley. His gaze wandered back to the boy standing before him.

He was much closer to adulthood than Harry, but still a few years shy of graduating. Although Harry didn't recognize him, he really didn't pay attention to many of the older years that he wasn't directly involved with (which was still a fair bit more than most second years bothered with remembering). It wasn't surprising that he didn't recognize the Slytherin standing before him. That absolutely did not change the feeling of betrayal he felt at another person being brought to aid his father before him. "Why is it that he called you before him? What makes you so special?" he asked bitterly. Harry had just about had it with this damn school year. Between Snape being a royal arse, his father's refusal to call him to his side, his own inability to hide his parentage from a twelve year old boy- Harry was starting to get pissed.

The boy only stared at Harry in bemusement. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" the boy spoke in a smooth cadence.

Harry bared his teeth. He might not have been the quickest on the uptake with the hierarchy that was part of being a Slytherin, but he had more than made up for that in the last year and knew all of the higher noble lines in his house as well as quite a few in others (mostly thanks to his study sessions with Lady Clearwater who was rather loose-lipped, truth be told.) But the fact that he didn't recognize this particular Prefect meant that he was of very little consequence to the grand scheme of the things, either within Hogwarts or without. Harry had absolutely no time for some self-important heir to a minor, landless house and his stupid pride. "You have no idea who I am, either. Otherwise you would answer me forthright."

The boy's bemusement dried up quickly into distaste. "You will watch your tongue you waif or I'll cut it from your head."

Harry raised his chin the way he'd seen Draco do about a thousand times. This boy didn't scare him. Harry was a monster. "Where is my father? I want to see him."

This caught the boy by surprise once again because his expression cleared once more. "James Potter is dead, boy."

Harry rolled his eyes then crossed his arms. "I suppose the Dark Lord doesn't trust you as much as you think he does if he hasn't told you." At the blank expression, he continues once more. "I am his son. And I wish to see my father. Take me to him now. I know he is here."

The boy's eyes widened and he threw his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed. Harry's eyes widened incredulously. He was laughing... At the horrible insult his eyes narrowed dangerously, fury and a fair bit of embarrassment heating his cheeks. "You dare laugh to my face. The son of Lord Voldemort?! My father will tear the flesh from your bones!" he hissed.

The threat probably sounded a lot less gruesome in English than in parseltongue. Draco's threats against his adversaries in his father's name never quite made them make such a shell-shocked expression. "No," the student shook his head in denial with wide eyes. "It is not possible."

"I assure you many have gone to great lengths to assure my relative safety until my father returned. Now take me to him. I will not ask again."

"I..." the man stepped forward a few steps more and only upon stopping right in front of him and falling onto his knees did Harry realize that there had been not a single sound of his approach. He reached up and grazed Harry's cheeks with his fingertips. Harry's eyes widened. It wasn't a true pressure of skin on skin. This other boy's touch felt like mist, like a breath. Like he wasn't really there. "You are..." Harry whispered.

He lost the words in the next instant. There was a tugging sensation in his chest and his breath rushed out like a kick to the stomach. Harry's skin felt too tight, his clothes uncharacteristically rough against his body. The mist sensation of the man's hand sharpened to a painfully tight grip on his chin. Amber-brown eyes stared up at him, alight with a fire of magic. "Mine," the man finished. "You are mine."

Harry was confused. Did his father... give him away? Is Harry engaged?! A blush raised high on Harry's cheeks and he took several steps back. "No!" he shouted at the man who was still on his knees. "I was to be his aid, his heir. He cannot give me to another! Let me see my father. Let me see him!"

He shouted through his frustrated tears. His father had thrown him away to gain the allegiance of this man?! How could- Harry was twelve. And he was a bloke! How could- "Oh sweet child," the man spoke, his voice suddenly close once again. Harry stared up in dawning hysteria. He was so close. He was too close! "I am your father," he breathed out, a manic grin splitting across his handsome features.

Harry felt sick.

The Dark Lord had given him to this- this monster?

Harry felt his breath hitch at the thought. There were more? More than him and the Dark Lord?

A sudden booming from behind them had Harry flinching around as rubble and a column of smoke emitted from the entrance where Harry had entered. He whipped around just as a flurry of red robed men entered, at their head was Albus Dumbledore. He stopped short upon catching sight of the man behind Harry. "Tom..."

Harry could hear the man's grin even without seeing it. "Always a pleasure Professor Dumbledore."

He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and leaned forward as the men started running towards them. "I will be back, my child. Stay safe until my return."

A step back and then there was the sound of a lightning strike. Harry whirled around, but the man was gone. Tom, Dumbledore had called him. "Tom..." Harry breathed out.

Fury lighted deep in his core. He would be having words with his father about this 'Tom Riddle' when they finally met. He doesn't know what the man had been thinking, but there was no way in hell Harry was marrying that man.

Harry would not be some rent boy to be loaned out whenever the Dark Lord saw fit. He was his son and would demand the respect that was afforded to him because of it.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up at the deep blue eyes of the Headmaster. That stupid twinkle had gone out at last. Harry wasn't pleased like he thought he would be when that happened. He felt sick and hollow. His chest ached terribly and a heat flushed up his spine. "Headmaster," he croaked out before he bent over and emptied his dinner at the old man's feet.

* * *

**A/N: ****Finally the last main character makes his entrance and it's Tom! I now feel safe in saying that we will be having a lot more dealings with 'Tom Riddle' than 'Lord Voldemort'. In fact I have every intention of making Tom Riddle become the main piece of the Dark Lord and the one that both Harry and the Death Eaters will be interacting with. Also, I hope you enjoy the misunderstanding a twelve-year-old Harry has just created. And in typical Kdrama fashion no one will actually talk about this assumption he has just made with the right people that could quickly rectify the misunderstanding. This means not only will Harry be left with the belief that Tom Riddle is his fiance, but he won't actually realize that 'Tom Riddle' is 'Lord Voldemort' for a few years even though he will be introduced to the horcruxes next year. Yay misunderstandings and miscommunication! Admittedly it is one of the laziest plot devices in my own opinion to use to drive a story, but I've already written a lot of it using this.**

**As always, sorry about the errors within, I'm rather terrible at proof reading my own stories. The next chapter shouldn't be as long as this, but I'm bad at guessing things like length as well. Most of the 'big scenes' are already written, I'll just be adding some connecting scenes and maybe a bit more information for the sake of plot. Let me know what you think.**


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